


The Mystery at Asher Station

by SmoggyFogbottom



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Clone Wars, Clones, Conditioning, F/M, Found Family, Gen, Gray Jedi, Jedi, Mystery, inhibitor chips
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-28
Updated: 2020-06-05
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:55:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 29,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21594175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SmoggyFogbottom/pseuds/SmoggyFogbottom
Summary: Aedana Nyx was a Jedi who stepped down from the Order at the start of the Clone War. CT-5125, or Sergeant Hawke, has seen much of war in his short life. Fate has them cross paths at Asher Station.
Relationships: Clone Troopers & Original Female Character(s), Original Clone Trooper Character(s)/Original Jedi Character(s)
Comments: 15
Kudos: 24





	1. Good Neighbours

**Author's Note:**

> I've been re-watching Clone Wars and was really struck by the Rookie episode and Tup and Five's story-line. Felt like writing my own spin on the ideas they touch on. This is also a last minute story idea so it might not be 100% accurate to Canon or EU Star Wars.

The thought of entering Asher Station caused a surge of fear within Aedana’s heart. As she walked the unkempt path towards the main gate, the idea of turning away became more and more attractive. A year had passed since she stepped down from the Jedi Order, she had no business in becoming involved, yet here she stood. Steps away from the entrance of the base, she reached into her pocket and clutched the reason for her visit: a short holo captured on a portable holoprojector. 

At the start of the Clone Wars she declared herself a conscientious objector and was given leave by an understanding, if disappointed Master Adi-Gallia. Despite remaining resolute in her decision, Aedana left the only life she knew, and it hurt. Her heart had yet to heal. She was disowned by many of her peers, the act of stepping down a reprehensible act of cowardice in many eyes. She retreated to Asher, a colony in the Mid Rim refusing to announce support to the Republic or Separatists. Her home, once upon a time. Her enigmatic and mystic training became a disservice as she tried to become productive and a helpful member of society. The inhabitants knew she was connected to the Jedi and were apprehensive of what she represented. After time however, her deeds outweighed their mistrust. 

Unfortunately, it did not take long for the Galactic Republic to arrive. The war crept closer each day and it was not difficult for the army to convince the Asher government of the wisdom in allowing them to construct an outpost. It was inevitable she would be dragged into the conflicts she sacrificed so much to avoid. 

Before she could change her mind, a security droid shoved its obtrusive eyestock into her face. A moment passed and she waited with patience for two clone troopers to peer over the wall. 

“Asher Outpost is under command of the Republic Army. Civilians are not permitted on the premises.” 

Aedana sighed and stepped away from the gates. “Good day troopers!” She called up. “I need to speak with your commander.” 

They turned to each other; emotions inscrutable behind their helmets. Despite this, she sensed interest over her arrival and significant boredom in regard to their situation. Being bred for war and then being stationed at a remote outpost was terribly unfair. It made her wonder if the Republic put any thought or consideration in the mass rehabilitation needed to adjust a clone population into post-war civilian life. 

One of the clones gestured towards the base. “If you have information to aid the war effort, you may report it to us. Anything else should be reported to your local constabulary.” 

They did not know who she was, they assumed she was a local wasting their time. Why would they think anything different? For the first time since she stepped down, she found herself regretting the choice to give up her lightsaber. It would have been an easy and quick means of identification. 

“I have information which could be about the war, but I am unsure. This is why I seek the advice of your commander.” 

She allowed a moment for them to confer amongst themselves, and to relay a message to the others in Asher Station. Not having the opportunity to meet a clone until now, she had succumbed to the idea they were each ruthless killing machines, no better than the droids they fought. It was a foolish thought, and it embarrassed her. Although they looked the same, these two troopers touched the Force in bright and unique ways, as any two people might.

Reaching out one last time, her reach came across a curious thing. A grey shadow, a signal of the natural being subverted. An elusive shade. As she focused, the abstract thing vanished from her like a trick of the eye. Was this how her mind interpreted their accelerated growth? 

The one who had been speaking previous looked back down at her, interrupting this odd discovery. “You may file a report with us and we will relay it as requested.” 

Closing her eyes and quieting her mind, she harnessed the power of the Force and saw herself standing next to the troopers. Opening her eyes, she leapt and scaled the imposing wall with ease. In one impossible bound she stood next to them. Smiling pleasantly and maintaining a non-threatening posture, she bowed slightly. 

“If it’s all the same, I’d like to speak with him directly. I think he’ll want to hear what I have to say.” 

* * *

Sergeant Hawke scrolled through his datapad, going over the information packet he received when his squad was first posted at this remote outpost. One of the many Republic listening posts scattered throughout the galaxy; logically he understood Asher Outpost’s importance. It did not stop him from wondering if this posting was punishment in some form or another. Surely such tedious work could be performed by droids. 

As such, his men were astutely curious about the first interesting thing to happen in two weeks. Troopers Arno and Cal first alerted him of a nosy local, which quickly escalated into a Jedi requesting to speak with him in private. Arno openly wondered if she was working undercover, and the chatty youngster quickly imagined a tale of espionage with a little too much flair for a soldier of his station. 

The Sergeant remembered when he first skimmed over the information packet, it contained a list of notable individuals living on this moon. To think he had dismissed those details as irrelevant. Aedana Nyx. The name was familiar to him and he was trying to place why. 

_There._ Sure enough, her name was on the list. He selected it, curious as to what information they had on her. An identification image displayed a young woman with maroon skin and dark blue hair, braided tightly against her head. A Zeltron, he believed. A human of sorts. The accompanying details were brief and unhelpful; a former Jedi who left the Order to provide relief work on Asher. It only left him with more questions. 

The door to the office opened with a mechanical woosh, and the woman from his list stepped in with a pleasant expression. Arno followed close behind and she turned to place a hand on his arm. The gesture unnerved him. 

“Thank you for your company, Arno.” She smiled and turned towards Hawke. “Sergeant.” 

Arno made no move to leave. Powering down the datapad, the sergeant stood at attention and focused on the younger soldier. “You are dismissed, Trooper.” 

“Oh, yep. Yessir!” Arno corrected, and marched back into the exterior hallway. The door shut, leaving them alone in an uncomfortable silence. 

“Jedi Nyx, I understand you have information to share.” He wanted to see her reaction at being called a Jedi. Whispers from older clones spoke of Jedi who denied their religion. Ones who become monsters; shadows of their formal self. He wasn’t quite sure how it worked, was the Order all that held them back? Did they start turning as soon as they left? 

A hint of dull pain flashed behind her eyes and her smile vanished. “You know I am not a Jedi, but you still use the term.” 

“Apologies. Won’t happen again.” He attempted to pass it off as a slip of the tongue. 

She clasped her hands together and nodded. “You think I am a deserter.” 

Hawke silently cursed Jedi perceptiveness. His obscuring helmet offered no privacy for his emotions. In his mind she was a deserter. But, ever the courteous soldier, he struggled for a less offensive response. 

“I don’t believe I know enough about the Jedi to make assumptions.” 

Taking a deep stabilizing breath, she gestured to the desk.” Do you mind if we sit?” 

He nodded and moved around to one side. With a few practiced motions, he unsealed and removed his helmet. She was unarmed and a helmet would do no good against a Jedi – or whatever she was. 

The action caused her smile to return. “You have a kind face.” 

It was not a usual descriptor attributed to his battle-scarred mug, but he was starting to think he was dealing with a rather unusual individual. 

“Are your soldiers accounted for at all times?” The question was abrupt. Aedana sensed his mistrust deepen as she asked it. She knew she took a risk approaching the outpost, but despite her feelings of the war, it would do no good if the locals found ways to hate the troopers. She had to get to the bottom of the mystery on her hands. 

“What are you asking?” 

Aedana reached over to touch his hand and he froze. It was instinctual for her to make a physical connection with those she met. It was natural for her kind, and always a difficult lesson to learn when she encountered those made uncomfortable by it. 

“I believe in this situation, context is key.” She sat back and clasped her hands in her lap. “Sergeant Hawke, I ask for your patience.” 

After a moment of stone-faced delay, he nodded. 

“Your men are bored and restless.” This man would not appreciate a person who talked in circles, but Aedana knew her bluntness tested the limits of his offered patience. 

He bristled and his jaw clenched. She held up her hands. “This is not a criticism. I see what is hidden, I know they are well disciplined, you should be proud.” 

Aedana waited for him to react in anger, but he simply observed her with a quiet intensity. 

“They – you – have been prepared to fight. To wage war. But here you are, with no battles to fight.” 

He nodded, his interest growing. 

“Is it possible – one might find war in their own way?” 

Earlier, she called his face kind because it sported the sort of creases one would find on a person who was quick to smile. This was not the case now. 

“No. Never.” He was resolute in his belief. 

“A local came to me asking about a soldier wandering through the southside of the city. They thought he was lost and felt there was something wrong with him. I assumed they were mistaken, but I went to investigate and I witnessed – something disturbing.” 

She placed the portable holoprojector she carried on the table between them. With a few button presses, a blue tinted image was brought to life. A figure in full Clone armor walked down one of the many side alleys of the city. His armor had no distinctive markings on it, which ruled out the Sergeant. Hawke’s armor was decorated, as much as it could be within the rigidness of military protocol, bearing proof of the battles he won. The soldier in the holo wore pristine armor, just like the clone troopers she met on the way in. He was being recorded from above. The trooper stopped and stared at the wall of a grimy cantina, until a group of brawling drunkards rushed out. Two of them shoved the armored individual and melee commenced. The fight did not last long, and the individual continued down the alley, leaving a group of dead or gravely injured individuals in his wake. The hologram faded to nothing. 

“This happened two days ago.” 

Fear and anger gripped the sergeant’s heart, yet he did a masterful job in controlling his expression. Tension ramped between them and Aedana remained still in her seat only by the will of the Force. 

“It must be an imposter.” 

“Perhaps.” 

He reached over and played it again, pausing on an image of the armour. 

“Even if it is an imposter, I felt it was a thing you should be aware of.” 

He nodded. He was confused and unsettled. “Who knows of this?” 

“Beyond the victims? You and I.” 

Rubbing a gloved hand across his jawline, his focus did not waver from the paused image. He did not truly believe one of his men was responsible for the scene that played out. However, she sensed a man of reason, one who would not deny a possibility because it was uncomfortable. 

“I must report this immediately -” 

“No.” She grabbed his wrist on reflex. His muscles tensed. She continued with a little less intensity. “You will not investigate it yourself?” 

He pulled at her fingers and gently lay her hand on the table. Leaning back in his chair, he looked at her directly. “The Republic Army has no jurisdiction in local security matters. However, impersonating a soldier, especially a clone trooper is a punishable offence.” It pained him to say the next part, but he gave it a shot. “A trooper going AWOL -” He shook his head. He didn’t want to think about it. “In any case, it must be reported.” 

Aedana nodded, the sick feeling in her stomach growing. She did not want a Republic investigative team. She did not want to face whatever Jedi they sent. 

Sergeant Hawke drummed his fingers along the desktop, the gears of his mind turning. Reaching for the holoprojector, he turned off the image and held it up. “Is there anything on this to suggest it did not come from an anonymous source?” 

When she realized the out he offered, she smiled. “No, and thank you.” She focused on him thoughtfully. He was a stranger and he did not trust her, but his aura exuded safety and defense. It reminded her of growing up with the minders and caregivers at the Jedi Temple. “I trust you.” 

“Thanks - I suppose.” His expression turned to skepticism. “This wouldn’t be a test of some sort would it? A test by the Jedi?” 

She winked. “If it were, I doubt I would answer that truthfully. Obfuscation at best.” 

For the first time since they met, he smiled. The creases and lines of his face pulled into an innate expression of good humour. 

“No, I imagine not.” The smile was short-lived. “If you witness any more of this individual, please report it. Hopefully this can be resolved quickly.” 

He offered her the comm ID number for the commanding officer’s station; the one he currently held. She programmed it into her own comm, eager for a means of communication that did not require additional exposure. 

“Thank you for listening to me Sergeant Hawke.” 

He responded to her thanks with a dismissive gruff manner, and accessed a template for an information report. 

“Now for the fun part; filling out the damn report.” 


	2. Similarities & Differences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aedana Nyx and Sergeant Hawke head toward the city of Khata in the hopes of finding more information.

A landspeeder rocketed towards the habitable border of Asher Moon. Inside and covered from the harsh elements sat an ex-Jedi, and a sergeant of the Galactic Republic Army. On the pretense of escorting Aedana safely across the wilds of Asher Moon, Sergeant Hawke accompanied her to the city of Khata. They made swift progress in the older speeder; she had anchored the vehicle in the shadow of the mountain range of which their base was located. Fields of ice and snow miles deep, surrounded the base on all sides. There were many reasons why the outpost was built so far from the city. Chief amongst them was the importance of a location far from the civilian population in the event of enemy retaliation, and the remote and wild land surrounding the habitable zone meant little noise or light to disturb the stations highly attuned sensors. As much as their mission was to listen for Separatist signals or transmissions, they were also meant to be a symbol of the Republic. A deterrent to the enemy, much like speed sensor droids were to reckless pilots in urban areas. 

The fact that Aedana had trekked far across a frigid and desolate wasteland to express concern over footage she recorded, placed weight on the issue in his mind. She could have released the footage to a holo-news site or, given her leanings, an anti-clone group. He imagined she still had Jedi contacts she could reach out to. Instead, she came to him for advice, a lowly sergeant. He couldn’t dismiss her concern, and it would seem Command agreed with him. Their reply came before she had a chance to leave. They requested he gather as much intel as he could, and let them know if the situation warranted an investigative team. Leaving the next senior trooper in charge of Asher Station, Hawke left with the young woman and found himself in a situation he felt ill-equipped to handle. 

“I am sorry for making you uncomfortable.” She said, after a half hour of travel. 

Hawke turned to her and did not know how to respond. He remained silent and thankful for a helmet that hid his face. 

“I’m afraid being raised as a Jedi has left me wise in some ways and a fool in others. I am still learning how to --” Her hands tightened her grip on the helm of the speeder. “Sometimes I - fail – at being a - person.” 

Her stuttered explanation lessened his discomfort. “I suppose I can identify with that.” 

His voice was gruff. Despite this, a smile lit up her face, her eyes twinkled and she leaned towards him with a conspiratorial gleam. 

“Some clones, some Jedi, we do share similarities, don’t we?” 

Hawke smirked. He supposed there was truth to that. 

“Except you are allowed to step down when you don’t want to fight.” And once again, his words chased away her smile. The response was automatic, and it made him angry and ashamed in equal measures. Why did her presence cause such an instant reaction in him? Was it normal to be both intrigued and bothered by someone? Maybe it was nothing to do with him, she was a Zeltron after all. The brief xenostudies classes on Kamino mentioned something about Zeltrons and their unavoidable likeability, he couldn’t recall it exactly; these were things he cared little for as a young clone. Or, maybe it was everything to do with him; if she was not a deserter and still a commanding member of the Jedi Order, his attitude towards her would be insubordination at best. The disassociation of what he was trained to know as truth, versus the reality of the situation was forcing him to deal with difficult emotions. 

“True.” She settled into silent contemplation. The wind-whipped landscape screamed by as they sat in awkward silence. She looked at him once more. “I am sorry that my decisions have made you – uncomfortable,” She seemed to be answering his private thoughts. “But I cannot change my past. We only need to mind each other a little longer.” 

He was unused to having a contentious discussion with a person whose voice never rose above calm assurances. There was a part of his brain he fought hard to control and it wanted to poke her until she reacted in kind. He shoved that emotion down under layers of training and conditioning. 

“Do Jedi read thoughts?” 

“Hmm - not quite. Well not me, at least.” She stole a quick look at him, but his armor obfuscated any personal connection. “But when people have strong emotions, I feel it through the Force.” She made a face. “It’s hard to ignore, like someone screaming into your ear.” 

Once again, Hawke felt himself being pulled towards her in a way that baffled him. Was it just a product of his upbringing that he felt compelled to defer to the Jedi? _She’s not Jedi._ Bah, semantics. Amidst his internal argument, Aedana sighed. He turned his attention towards her. 

“If you had the option to step down, would you still want to be a soldier?” 

His gut twisted at the question. This was not a conversation he wanted to have, not now. Not with her. Her large, questioning eyes watched him carefully. 

“It’s what I am.” He said softly. 

She nodded and turned her attention to the vista whipping around them, eyes shining and tears pooling in the corner of her eyes. The rest of the trip continued in silence. 

* * *

In a dark room deep within the bustling city of Khata as it scrawled across the habitable half of Asher Moon, sat a human hunched over a dusty console. The dark green coveralls and thick, rugged boots she wore while on the clock had been paired with a knee-length duster, made from iridescent thread and a crystalline fringe. It was not a garment she would ever wear for herself, but it was currently all the rage within the fashion circles of Khata. It was a rare case in where she found herself becoming conspicuous in order to blend in. 

She checked and rechecked her data, bewildered at the presented information. Her current mission sounded straightforward when she received it, but she became increasingly baffled as she attempted to follow the strict instructions. The enigmatic and isolated Kaminoans often contracted with trusted individuals. The tall, slender isolationists preferred not to leave their home world if it could be helped, relying instead on trusted proxies when convenient. This time that person was Var-Tera. They needed emissaries when their interests fell off world, and Var-Tera was discrete and efficient. 

After arriving at the neutral colony and setting up a needlessly complicated transmitter, she had been asked to activate it for a short burst, wait an hour, then activate it again. However discrete she might be, she wasn’t beyond taking a peek at the transmitting information. The transmissions were encrypted, she had been given no decryption key and was not about to chance ruining this job because of her own curiosity. Didn’t stop her from gleaning information in a casual manner. 

After the first night, her curiosity got the better of her and she was able to track where the transmission was going. Turned out to be an area a some distance outside the habitable area. If she was a betting woman, she might bet the entire stack of credits she was getting for this job that following the transmission would lead her to the front door of the Galactic Republic Army’s outpost. It wasn’t exactly a secret they were here, but they also didn’t make it obvious to where they were located. Considering her client, and their connection with the Fett clones, Var-Tera felt hers was a safe assumption. 

But her instructions were specific. She must remain on Asher moon for a standard month. During that time, she would activate the transmitter during specific dates and times. She would monitor the responses and prepare them to be sent, all the while having not a clue what she was signaling. 

* * *

After a ride that felt infinitely longer than it was, Aedana pulled into the basement garage of a hospice located in South Khata’s crowded industrial sector. A small portion of the population still lived in the area; either not able to afford housing elsewhere, or stubbornly refusing to move as factories and progress paved over residential space. 

“Is this where you live?” Were the first words from Sergeant Hawke, breaking the stony silence that enveloped the two. 

“I help out here. The speeder belongs to the owner.” 

As if on cue, the door on the far end of the garage flung open and the aforementioned owner hurried out. Hawke tensed up and his hand reached for his holster. Aedana gestured to him to stand down. 

Dani, a short and portly Twi-lek, rushed into the garage. He was gesticulating wildly, so she reached out and held onto his hands tightly. He squeezed her hands and stood on the tip of his toes to offer a quick kiss to the side of her face; a common greeting in these parts. Behind her, she could feel the sergeant’s intense discomfort at their display of affection. It was the same emotion he felt each time she made any sort of physical contact, whether with him or with someone else. It was something she hoped to learn more of, and something she doubted he would ever speak of. 

“Aedana, thank the goddesses you are here. Bantu won’t settle down. No one can get near her.” 

It was at that moment that Dani noticed Sergeant Hawke; truly a sight to behold while armed and in full armor. With her connection to the Force, Aedana never had to wonder after the true hearts of those she kept close. Today it did her a disservice as she felt a sliver of doubt wedge itself into the intangible bonds of friendship they shared. Like many people on Asher, Dani had enough problems to handle and had no sympathy or desire for their home to become involved with the war between the Republic and the Separatists. 

“I - uh – thought you gave up the war.” He was trying not to stare at the sergeant. 

“I have. I’m being a good neighbour.” 

“Right.” He drawled. “Sure. Well, free advice - you might not want to burn through the good will of your _actual_ neighbours.” 

Aedana cleared her throat and changed the subject. “What’s going on with Bantu?” 

Dani clapped his hands, shaking off the revelation of who she was consorting with – he had bigger concerns at the moment. He turned on his heal and marched back to the door. “We need you to calm her down. And bring the bucket head – we'll probably need him too.” 

They followed the Twi’lek up to the main level of the building. Hawke did not like this diversion. He had clear directives and deviating from them put him ill at ease. 

“This is a distraction.” 

“It won’t take long.” 

They spoke in hushed tones while Dani chattered on. He didn’t seem concerned on whether they were actually listening. They reached the top of the stairs and stepped out into a large common area. Shelves full of faded knick-knacks, objects he didn’t understand, and various storage bins, lined the walls. Furniture was shoved into the room for maximum occupation rather than efficiency or aesthetic. A collection of different species filled the chairs and recliners. A cold pit formed in his stomach as a few turned to watch him. Some slept, others rocked back and forth as if listening to a swelling song, some were hooked up to beeping machines. Medic-droids weaved in between this motley crowd. A sickening realization came upon him. They were all dying. 

Aedana smiled and waved a greeting to a few of them. As they exited the room, he removed his helmet in order to speak to her without its amplified comm system. 

“What has happened here?” 

Her smile remained, but a shade of sadness fell across her eyes. “This is a hospice.” 

He did not understand the explanation. 

“It is a place where people can live out their last days in peace.” 

On instinct, his mind told him this was a waste of time and resources. When they were no longer able to perform their duty, often-times clones would be decommissioned. A polite euphemism for the recycling of biological resources. 

Aedana breathed in deeply and wrapped her left hand around her right wrist, holding her arms against her body. “Facing the unknown is scary. Sometimes all people want is a companion as they reach the end and a comfortable place to rest.” 

A scream cut through their conversation, wiping away all further questions. At the end of the hallway, a short, stooped figure crashed out of an open doorway, shoving past others trying to hold them back. 

The humanoid stepped into the light and let loose a roar from an elongated snout. A bothan, he believed. This one was only half dressed and covered head to toe in light brown fur. Tall, pointed ears twitched towards the three of them and betraying their size and condition, picked up a nearby chair and hurtled it towards Dani. The Twi’lek panicked and remained rooted in spot. Instinct pushed Hawke towards the shorter man in an attempt to shove him out of the way. In his peripheral he watched Aedana hold up her hand as if she was gesturing for them to calm down. It took several heartbeats to realize the chair’s momentum had stopped instantly. It hung suspended in midair and everyone, even the bothan, watched it curiously. The rescue now unneeded, Hawke stepped away from Dani and secured his helmet. He wasn’t completely ignorant; he knew what the Jedi could do. However, it was entirely different to witness their magic in person. She motioned downwards and the chair lowered slowly to the ground. 

“Bantu, let me greet you.” She called out, stretching her arms out in front of her as a gesture he did not recognize. Bantu’s fur rippled across their shoulders, but they did not move and remained transfixed on the chair. 

Aedana walked towards the bothan with slow, deliberate steps. Hawke followed a few footsteps behind. He tensed up as she placed her hands on either side of the bothan’s head. Bantu twitched uncontrollably. 

“Remember when we first met? You told me a story of your mother. She sang a song to you when you were scared.” 

Hawke was unfamiliar with bothan physiology, but he was keenly aware of the stance of someone about to launch an attack. He reached out and grabbed their arm as they tried to land a blow to Aedana’s side. Aedana continued as if nothing happened. She closed her eyes and began humming. Her fingers strained against some invisible barrier; and her face paled from its normal maroon colour. He watched Bantu’s eyes begin to focus and the feral intensity of their expression turned to exhaustion. The bothan began singing softly to the tune the Jedi hummed. The strain of their attempted attack lessened to the point where Hawke was simply holding on to their arm, rather than holding them back. Finally, Bantu stepped down and looked at their body. 

After a moment of consideration, they looked around at those gathered with a bewildered expression. “I’m naked.” 

At this point, Dani snapped out of his shock and rushed over to the patient. 

“You’re only half naked, dear. Let’s get you cleaned up.” 

Hawke let go of their arm and staff ushered the confused bothan back into the room they had exited. 

Minutes passed as he let the ex-Jedi compose herself. He didn’t know Aedana well, but he had been exposed to enough civilians to safely assume she was rattled. 

After a stabilizing breath, she turned to the exit. Her expression smoothed and she adjusted her cold-weather jacket. “See, I told you this wouldn’t take long.” 

Sergeant Hawke nodded and slid his helmet back on, sealing out the rest of the world. He recognized in her what he witnessed in countless of his brothers; suffering that wasn’t named or understood, stemming from a way of life that spat you out if you faltered. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there, thanks for stopping by! I'm actually having a lot of fun writing these characters. I think I'd write this even if I wasn't posting it anywhere. Yay, Star Wars!


	3. Worn Out Welcome

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Former Jedi Aedana Nyx, has temporarily partnered with clone trooper, Sergeant Hawke. They explore Khata City on Asher Moon in the hopes of getting to the bottom of her mysterious holo-recording. Is the recorded attacker truly one of the Sergeants men? Is there a connection to the shadow Aedana sensed in the clone's minds? The two of them begin their investigation with one of the survivors of the attack.

The streets in South Khata were empty during the latter part of the day. The factories had not let out yet, leaving a small window of time for a discrete investigation to occur. 

A squat cantina sat sandwiched between two towering buildings and in the shadow of a monolithic walkway. It sat empty except for one or two lonely regulars. Time ticked by quietly until its door opened; on the other side stood a woman with long, dark blue hair, framing a soft, round face. 

Aedana had exchanged her winter outerwear for a less conspicuous teal coloured overcoat. She wanted to be less obvious about her travels outside the habitable zone, _and_ it included the added benefit of multiple pockets. She smoothed her hands over her outwear, unreasonably fearful that she forgot her medical equipment. Everything was there, just as it was every other time she checked. She stepped into the cantina, and the door slid shut with jarring efficiency. The bartender looked up from the holo he was watching and smiled. 

“Go up. He waiting.” He spoke in broken Basic. He nodded towards the upper level. “Won’t stop bellyaching.” 

The bartender was an aging human who didn’t question her offer of assistance when she initially checked in on his brother. His brother, of course, being one of the survivors of the attack she had recorded. 

She walked over and clasped his hand. “Good to see you, Evar. I’ll do what I can to help.” 

He squeezed her hand and grumbled under his breath in a poor attempt at a dismissive manner. “He’s been a problem long time. No help will fix that boy, but do what you can.” He hesitated. “You deserve payment.” 

The payment was being allowed to treat his brother; assuaging the guilt plaguing her after her inability to stop the attack. 

“Just - turn a blind eye - in case the Administrators come asking about me.” Medicine was a for-profit business on Asher, and the Administrators policed medical assistance heavily. Aedana had been fined several times and she couldn’t afford another penalization. They already threatened her with deportation. Without Asher, she had nothing. 

His eyes twinkled. “Aye, I will.” 

She bowed her head and made her way to the upper level. Now on the second floor of the building, she could hear Eadi cursing up a storm from the north living quarters. Apparently one of Evar’s droids was refusing to bring him a cold drink. Shaking her head, she turned and walked in the exact opposite direction, to where an emergency exit led out to a back alleyway. Closing her eyes, she reached with her mind to the corners of this building, feeling for the warm lights of all lifeforms as they connected to the living Force. There was one angry lifeform behind her still berating his droid, and before her, a most uncomfortable soldier waiting patiently behind the door. No surprises waited for her, no one was observing her actions – at least no on she could detect. As quiet as she could manage, she unlatched the emergency exit and held the door open wide enough for Hawke to fit through. Thankfully Evar cared little for keeping the emergency seals in this building alarmed or activated. 

Hawke refused to take his armor off so they borrowed a hooded poncho from Dani’s closet. The garment was forgiving and covered enough of his armor to make him look inconspicuous on a quick glance. Military posture and keen awareness of his surroundings were harder to disguise, but so far, they had managed just fine. 

She nodded towards the door on the opposite end of the corridor. “This way.” She whispered. 

The angry ranting had finally ended, but she had a good idea of how he might react to her partner. Aedana knocked on the door. “Eadi? It’s Aedana, may I come in?” 

“No, you open the damn door!” A voice grumbled. A moment later the door slid open and she was faced with a beleaguered looking droid. How an unchanging mechanical frame could look beleaguered, she wasn’t sure, but this one managed to pull it off. 

“How have you been Eadi?” She called out. Eadi was a scruffy looking human with scars and healed over injuries that existed well before his most recent encounter. His red hair had been shaved since she last saw him, and he had accumulated a small trash pile to surround his makeshift recovery bed. She moved into the small apartment and made sure the door sealed behind them. 

“Terrible. Evar’s got this piece of shit trying to take care of me.” 

Aedana patted the droid’s shoulder. “I’m sure you are doing a wonderful job.” The droid seemed to be non-verbal, but the light behind its eye sockets brightened momentarily. 

She walked into the main room and began shoving the garbage to one side. “I’m going to take a look at your injuries, see how everything is progressing.” She sat down next to him. “I’d also like to ask you some questions about the attack if you don’t mind.” 

Hawke stepped into the living area as if to punctuate her sentence. 

“Who’s this-” Realization hit. As expected, the disguise was useless up close or under close inspection. Eadi’s fear spiked and he ignored his recuperating sensibilities. He pulled himself backwards, attempting to drag himself away from the sergeant. 

“Eadi, Eadi.” She held onto his hand and placed her other hand over his heart. “Be at peace. Sergeant Hawke did not hurt you. He is here to help find out what happened.” 

Without prompting, Hawke reached up and removed his helmet. Aedana smiled, grateful he was attempting a human connection. To anyone else, Hawke’s battle-scarred face might have the opposite of a calming effect, but Eadi’s anxiety mellowed significantly at the sight. He was a simple man who was comforted by wear and tear. 

“You in bed with the bucketheads?” He asked, all the while not breaking eye contact with the sergeant. Hawke’s brows raised at the turn of phrase. “I thought you left the order? Or are you the Republic’s way of keeping things quiet?” 

Aedana sighed. It appeared this was to be an ongoing accusation. “Have the police investigated what happened?” 

“They don’t care, they don’t know.” He grumbled and pulled away from her touch. “Effie, Oto -” His voice cracked. “You Jedi are so powerful, but my friends are dead. You let them die?” 

She could tell him she was no longer a Jedi, she could correct his assumptions about the strength and limitation of her powers, she could also explain that as soon as she understood what was happening, she rushed to the scene, and while this information she could provide would be correct and true, it would not accomplish anything for his current state of mind. 

“You are alive. She prevented you from ending up dead on the side of the road.” 

Eadi scowled, but was still too scared of the sergeant to respond in kind. Aedana did not address the statement. Instead she clasped her hands in her lap and turned to Eadi in earnest. 

“You are right. Deep down I knew something wrong was about to happen. I wouldn’t have been there if not.” She could have been closer. Instead, she held back at a distance she could suitably hide in and sent her holo-recorder ahead. “I made the wrong call, and I’m trying to make it right.” 

She could feel the tight knot of fear and anger subside in the injured man. However, the scowl did not lessen. 

“May I?” She gestured towards his injury. He nodded begrudgingly. His legs had been fractured and he had a nasty gash across his throat. Not deep enough to kill, but enough to leave permanent scarring. In wartime, bacta was as rare and expensive as precious gems. People had to be healed the long way around. His healing was aided through her connection to the Force, but she was not a talented healer. Cuts and fractures took multiple deep meditative sessions for her to correct – but the temple trained her in basic medical practice, so she did what she could. From her right pocket, she pulled out an ancient portable medscan unit – she had scavenged it from the local clinics trash. It was temperamental on a good day, but at the very least it could tell her whether his bones were mending. And after a few seconds of scanning, she was confident they were mending well. 

“You will be able to return to work in a few days. You’re healing nicely.” 

Eadi sniffed, distinctly unhappy with the prospect. 

“Will you answer some questions now?” 

He scowled, but he did not refuse. Aedana looked up at Hawke and nodded. 

“What do you remember of the man who attacked you? The smallest detail is important.” 

“He wasn’t a man, was he? It was a damn clone.” 

Behind her, Hawke’s anger blossomed and then was brought under swift control. Her stomach dropped and she felt shame over her previous unfair thoughts. She was a fool for assuming the clones were simply manufactured killers. 

“Eadi.” She warned. 

“Fine.” He grumbled. “A trooper with armor like his came and started attacking me and my buddies.” 

“Exactly like mine?” Hawke pointed towards the helmet design. 

“Ehh, no.” Eadi screwed up his expression, remembering. “All white. Shiny too – brand new it looked to me.” 

“Did he say anything – during the attack?” 

Aedana noted the difficulty he had in verbalizing the possibility of misconduct. Hawke’s communicator clicked once, delivering a message only he could hear. 

Anxiety began to build in Eadi. “Listen, I was drunk and being attacked – I don’t -” 

Without warning, the ball of stifled emotions that made up Sergeant Hawke vanished. It was so sudden, she flinched. She turned away from Eadi’s side to see what was happening. 

Hawke’s face was impassive. His mind was completely shut off from her. 

“Sergeant?” 

His eyes stared off into the middle distance and he replaced his helmet. 

“Segeant Hawke, is everything okay?” She held his hand in hers and felt nothing. He did not react. 

“Hey, what’s going on?” Despite his bluster, Eadi was nervous and scared. He watched the two of them in absolute bewilderment. 

Hawke turned on his heel and marched out of the room. 

“Eadi, I’ll come back later. Try thinking of anything you can about the attack.” She called over her shoulder as she fled after her new partner. He was half way down the stairs before she caught up with him. An all-consuming purpose had taken over. She had to jog to keep up with his fast pace. 

“What’s this?” To their right, Evar stood up from his place at the bar. She watched him reach for the shelf where he kept his blaster pistol, before seeing her trailing the trooper. 

“Eadi is fine. I’ll be back to check up on him in a bit.” 

The two of them rushed out the front entrance. Thankfully, the streets were still empty. Hawke made a sharp turn and began marching towards the city center. 

“Can we talk?” She called out. He paid her no mind. They were making a steady pace. If she didn’t figure out what was happening, they would bring unwanted attention. 

“Hawke, wait!” The command was uttered with force assisted persuasion. He stopped, but remained caught up in the trance-like state. From where she stood, she reached out to his mind. The shadow she had sensed in each of the clone’s minds was still present, but now it felt angry and roiling. A storm of sickness. Something wrong lived in their brains, something that should not exist. It was wrong, unnatural. Feeling around the edges of the shadow, she knew she did not grasp the ability to heal this anomaly through her own means. Instead, she attempted to calm the storm. With care and focus, she willed this dark shadow into its original state. 

Ahead of her, Sergeant Hawke shook his head and looked around his surroundings in a state of shock. Confusion set in and only deepened when he turned around to see her standing a few metres back. 

Behind her, a knowing mind watched the two of them interact. They were also confused, but in a different way. This confusion was layered with hostile intent. Everything within her screamed for her to stop it. 

Without thought of protocol or strategy, she raced up the street and leapt on to the roof of a warehouse. The mind she had sensed was here. Calming her racing heart, she moved carefully along the edge of the roof. They remained hidden, moving away from her as she grew closer. 

Stopping, she ignored the forceful presence of Hawke’s annoyance and concentrated instead on the lurking stranger. 

“Why are you targeting the clones?” She whispered. She couldn’t be sure that was happening, but felt confident in the hunch. Her mind open, she latched onto a feeling of instinctual deflection. This was just a job. They held no real malice, but a dark shadow propelled their actions. 

“Hmm. So, it’s not you. You work for someone. Who? The ones who contacted the Sergeant just now?” 

In a flurry of movement, a figure dressed in a colourful coat ran to the edge of the building. They grabbed onto a pipe and seemed to freefall off the edge. Aedana rushed to the other side of the warehouse and watched as they stumbled on landing and ran for a nearby alley. She leapt off the side of the roof, propelling herself towards the vanishing figure. 

Their iridescent coat of the escaping figure flashed in the light of the sun as they turned towards her. It took Aedana a moment to realize they held a blaster pistol in their hand. They aimed and fired a single shot. In a panic, she abandoned her attempt to control her descent, and deflected the bolt. It impacted harmlessly into the warehouse wall, and Aedana fell hard onto an assortment of junk, piled neatly behind the building. Any dignity she hoped to maintain vanished, as a decommissioned atmospheric vane pierced her lower abdomen. The force of her fall caused it to punch through several inches of flesh before she regained control once more. Despite her training and despite the lauded control she was meant to have, Aedana screamed in pain. Scared tears filled her eyes. 

Hawke jogged up to the warehouse he had watched the _not-Jedi_ leap over in a single bound. He was angry and confused on how he ended up in the middle of the street with no recollection of leaving the dirty cantina. His first instinct was to accuse the person with the ability to _affect_ the minds of living beings, but even the tiniest bit of reason told him this made no sense. Despite having just met her and fundamentally disagreeing with her life choices, he was confident she had no hand in what happened. 

The faint sound of blaster fire echoed through the empty streets, followed by a strangled scream. Picking up his speed, he scanned ahead, searching for imminent threats. Rounding the back corner of the building, he clocked Aedana leaning precariously against a pile of scrap. After ensuring there was no one waiting to attack them from the shadows, he moved to her side. Her face was screwed up in pain and tears rolled down her cheeks. A piece of metal scrap had punctured her side. She had already begun cutting her coat away from the punctured area. 

“Shit.” He muttered. He knelt by her side and his discomfort began to fall away. Instead, he only felt confidence, despite their circumstance. This was an event he trained for. He knew how to handle this emergency. Quickly taking stock of the situation, he began ripping a swath of material from the borrowed twi’lek’s poncho. He hated having to wear it, turns out it had a purpose afterall. Handing it to her, they wrapped it around the object, stabilizing the metal piece as best they could. 

“Apply pressure.” He said, but she was already doing so. It would seem she had similar medical training. Activating his vibroblade, he waited for it to glow red hot before carefully cutting her from the larger vane. She was free, albeit with a smaller impaled piece in her side. 

“We have to leave. People are coming to investigate.” She wavered and Hawke began considering the reality where she fell unconscious. 

“What is the fastest route to the med-center?” 

She shook her head. “No.” 

His annoyance became tinged with anger. “You’ll need surgery.” 

“I can’t go to -” She coughed and sobbed in pain. “Take me back to Dani’s.” 

“If it got your organs - “ 

“Hawke, please!” She gasped. 

He reasoned he would lose what little control of their situation he had if he handed her over to a non-Republic hospital. That would be the opposite of containing the situation. With a sigh, he moved over to the non-injured side and pulled her arm across his shoulders. With some difficulty, they managed to leave the area. Some locals were curious enough to poke their heads out in curious investigation, but ducked back into their buildings as soon as they saw the two of them. 

“In Eadi’s room,” She paused, gritting her teeth in pain. “Who contacted you?” 

He did not respond, because he did not have an answer. He could not remember any communication. Silently, he pulled up the record of his comm traffic on the HUD of his helmet. The most recent entry was from an encrypted channel, still open and active. It closed before he could interact further, and the record of it vanished before his eyes. 

The hair on the back of his neck stood on end. A terrifying thought entered his mind. Was he defective? How had he not noticed before now? 

Aedana’s grip tightened around his shoulders. “Steady on, Sergeant.” 

Her eyes were closed and her face was screwed up in concentration, but she did not break pace. The former Jedi was slowly and uncomfortably becoming the most important person in his life. His gut told him she was the key to getting to the bottom of this situation. 

He looked around, gauging his surroundings. He was less familiar with the side road they were rushing down and began to slow as they neared an intersection. 

“Turn right at the next alleyway. It’ll take us to the back of the hospice.” 

He followed her instructions and felt her stumble. As they neared the building, he was near to carrying her. He waited for her to punch in an entry code and they entered the garage for the second time today. 

“Do you have any bacta?” She slid from his arms in order to lie still on the ground. 

He nodded. “A field medpac. It has one bacta patch.” 

“Should be enough.” Her face seized into a grimace. 

“Give me your medscan unit. I should see what damage-” 

“My organs are fine, Sergeant.” 

Jedi were damn insufferable. How could she be sure? But he cut her coat and clothes away from the wound. 

“Here’s what’s going to happen. I’m going to remove this. I need you to be ready with the patch.” 

“This is a bad idea. A patch will not heal this much damage.” 

“It will do enough. I don’t have time to explain myself.” 

He nodded, despite his misgivings. He would follow her instructions. Hawke prepared the patch as she began what appeared to be breathing exercises. 

“Okay, okay.” Deep breath. “On three. One, two, three.” 

Grunting, she pulled the piece of metal out. In an instant blood began seeping out. 

“Wait!” She said through gritted teeth. Her hand hovered over the wound and the blood thinned. Pained concentration lined her face and she screamed as shards of metal from the vane, and debris from her clothing floated out of the wound. He batted her hands away and secured the bacta patch over the damage. Her eyes rolled back and she collapsed. Up above them, he heard footsteps rushing towards the stairwell. 

Hawke felt confident that he may have worn out his welcome here in Khata City. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed the chapter!


	4. Two Steps Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Former Jedi Aedana Nyx and Clone Sergeant Hawke attempt to piece together what happened in Khata, while the mysterious Var-Tera comes to terms with the possibility of being found out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't know if anyone reading needs this warning, but considering this is Star wars I'm including it anyways: prepare your butts for some nasty cuss words and a brief mention of infanticide in this chapter.

Var-Tera sealed the door, her heart pounding. She leaned forwards and braced herself against her knees, desperate to catch her breath. She had dead sprinted from the warehouse roof top, all the way to her apartment complex. Obviously making sure she hadn’t been followed. Now here she was, gasping for air. A fucking Jedi. It had to be – who else could pull off such a stunt? How had she missed that significant detail? How had the Kaminoans? She heard rumours and whispers of the Jedi’s power and assumed it was propaganda. Exaggeration. It was a big galaxy and her corner of it was never important enough to bring those pious guardians close. The fact that this one seemed to have read her mind caused her to be unreasonably terrified. So she fired her blaster and ran. Now she was paying for it. When she was certain she wouldn’t vomit, she straightened up and got to work. Inputting a few commands into her comm, she cancelled the encrypted broadcast. Who knew if they could track the signal? She wouldn’t give them the chance. She cleared off the tools that lay spread across the apartment’s single table. It was a solid piece of furniture, and with some effort she managed to tip it over. Decent enough cover. Next, she dragged her box of weapons and ammo behind the overturned table. The single room apartment had two windows which she had already trapped with Snappers, but she doublechecked them. Still active. Couldn’t take any chances. If they did manage to find out where she went, she’d be ready.

Crouching behind the table, she weighed her situation. Any obvious solution would play her hand. Those slender-necked aliens might seem gentle to the casual observer, but Var-Tera knew their ruthless side all too well. One of her associates got sloppy on a procurement job and mysteriously ended up dead in some backwater hole shortly after. This had never been an issue for Var-Tera, because she never made a mistake. Until now. If she submitted the recently captured data, her clients might want her to investigate the interference. No way was she going up against a Jedi and a handful of clone troopers - beyond that, Var-Tera was now a liability. If the Jedi could read minds, she might expose her connection with Kamino. If she didn’t send the data, the client might send someone to take care of _her_. Nala Se had contracted her for this job; a particularly cold-hearted bitch. An early visit to their world had her witness the doctor sending baby clones to a bio-recycler due to being less than perfect genetic duplicates. Not enough for Var to turn down paying work, but it left her with no delusions to what those pieces of shit were capable of.

Breathing deeply, her pulse finally settled to a regular beat. She shrugged out of her colourful coat and shoved it onto the nearby bed. Technology was not infallible, despite what the manufacturers wanted you to believe. She knew enough tech jargon to come up with a believable excuse on why the transmission did not record data. Then it was a matter of erasing the previously recorded data. _Damn her curiosity._ When the transmission did not go to the uninhabitable zone of Asher, and instead to a nearby location, she tracked it to a clone trooper and a Zeltronian storming down an alleyway. If they weren’t a trooper and a Jedi, she might assume they were a couple having a domestic – the scared girl running after her emotionally stunted partner. And if she hadn’t stuck her nose in it, the Jedi wouldn’t have been there to read her mind. Who knows what that witch saw? Best to pretend the whole thing never happened. Yes, once she was sure a group of soldiers and sorcerers hadn’t followed her to her door, she would go about getting rid of the data.

* * *

Aedana was vaguely aware of the room she lay in. It had the hallmarks of an afterthought of a Republic med-room. The designers didn’t expect it to be used. This either put a concerning amount of faith on the strength of their soldiers, or a disconcerting lack of value on human life. A med droid had been powered on and its indignance of being covered with a layer of dust seemed a more pressing concern than its patient. The chain of events turned cloudy in her mind. Dani helped Sergeant Hawke load her into his speeder, this she could remember. Dani might not care for the Republic Army, but he also wouldn’t endanger Aedana to the Med-Centers. She was free labour, he was too shrewd to let that happen. Then came snapshots of rocketing across the frigid plains of Asher, back towards the mountain ridge that housed the listening station. Finally, she remembered being brought into this rarely used room, while the other troopers crowded around like curious children. The droid was powered on and it immediately sent the boys on their way before cutting her out of her clothing, inspecting for any other injuries.

Now all that was left was recovery. Dressed in a too-large outfit, and tucked snugly into a standard military cot, she attempted to settle into a healing meditative trance. Her time away left her ill-suited for it, and unable to focus. This, and the fact that the entire Universe felt like it was telling her to find the mystery person from the warehouse roof. Breathing deeply, she turned her mind to the wrongness in her body. The droid had treated the wound with adequate medical attention. Through careful meditation, her mind began to understand the mending that was underway. She never could heal a wound from scratch, but once the body was fixed, she did have a talent for speeding along the process. It was just a matter of strengthening the mended pathways.

She focused and reached out the Force, calling on it to restore what was taken.

* * *

Sergeant Hawke walked down the drab durasteel corridor of Asher Outpost, deep in his thoughts. One standard galactic day had passed since _former Jedi_ Aedana Nyx darkened the door of his temporary office. It felt like an eternity had passed. Despite everything that transpired, his focus couldn’t move passed her question about the message he received. He had no memory of being contacted, but his comm system was left open. The communication vanished without a trace, but there was something familiar about the encryption. He hadn't filled out a new report yet, despite performing his own due diligence. The feeling of pouring over the movements of his fellow clones, the base logs, their transponder signals, it still left him with a sour taste. He could not detect any suspicious activity with any of the troopers under his command. He would include these details in the new report, but he did not see how he could keep his original source anonymous. True to his word, he kept Aedana out of his initial contact with Command. But now she was on base, recovering in the station’s med-room. He couldn’t play ignorant to her involvement much longer. For now, he was biding time until she could explain what happened in the streets of Khata.

The hallway ended and emptied out into the Mess. Hawke didn’t intend to make this his destination, but he stopped nonetheless. Trooper Hex, along with Arno and Cal, sat around a table, suffering through yet another of Arno’s ration pack experiments.

“Gotta hand it to you Arno,” Cal smacked the younger clone on the shoulder. “You somehow made the normal rations taste edible.”

Arno frowned while Cal laughed. Hex scowled at them both, and continued to eat in silence.

It did not take long for his presence to be noticed.

“Sarge!” Arno said between mouthfuls. “Any word on the Jedi?”

“The Jedi?”

“Yeah - Aedana. Will she be stationed here?”

Hawke kept his expression neutral and shook his head. “No. Aedana – is no longer with the Jedi.”

Hex snorted derisively. Arno, clearly taken with the young woman, looked crestfallen.

“Soo - does that mean she is the enemy now?”

“No, it means she is not fighting in the war.”

Hex’s scowl deepened and he stood up with a start. Everyone watched as he shoved his uneaten rations into the recycler. The other two men looked at each other knowingly as their brother marched out.

“Well, technically, we aren’t fighting in the war either.” Cal interjected, slicing through the tension.

“Arno, Cal.” Hawke nodded his goodbye, and walked with purpose after Hex. His subordinate did not stop, he didn’t even slow his pace.

“Soldier.” He called out after it was clear the other had no intention of engaging. 

Hex stopped immediately, his spine rigid, and spun on his heel, standing at attention.

“You aren't happy with her.” It was a statement rather than a question.

“No, sir.”

“Explain yourself.” Hawke’s voice was calm, but stern.

Hex’s composure faltered, by a small amount. “For not being a Jedi, you dropped things fast enough to do her bidding.”

Hawke kept his face impassive, but was at odds with how to handle this conversation. Aedana’s holovid allowed doubt of his men’s loyalty to creep in and it made him miserable. It caused him to look at Hex, and wonder if his reaction stemmed from a place of guilt. Did he go to Khata city? Did he attack the locals?

Hawke stepped uncomfortably close to Hex, mimicking the posture of their brutal drill sergeant. It was an effective ploy and gave the desired effect, the trooper backed down from his defiant stance. It was a dirty tactic. Hex’s jaw set, and he snapped to attention.

“Because we are both off duty at the moment, I will allow your insubordination to remain off record.” It didn’t matter if he was sympathetic to his men’s feelings. They were soldiers. Insolence was not tolerated across ranks. “However, I need an inventory report of all supplies and provisions on base, including all weapons and armor. Make a note of any changes, no matter how small. You have 12 standard hours to deliver this report, understood?”

“Yes, sir.” Hex was furious over the punishment but saluted smartly.

“Good. Dismissed.”

The trooper turned on his heel and marched towards the barracks section of the base. Hawke _had_ planned to assign a few of the men to an inventory audit, but Hex’s attitude provided an opportunity for discipline. As demonstrated, Hex was never one to excel at keeping his emotions to himself. If he was behind the attack, he displayed no fear or concern over being forced to do an inspection.

Hawke stood in the hallway, wondering if he made the right decision, when he was interrupted by the beep of his comm-link. It was the medic-droid.

“ _Sergeant Hawke.”_ It might have been his imagination, but Hawke felt the droid resented their chosen names. He was sure it sounded annoyed. “I require your assistance.”

 _What could that possibly mean._ Hawke opened his comm once more. “Is there a problem with the patient?”

A protracted pause, which must have been an eternity for the lightning fast computations of a droid. Then, “Maybe.”

Shaking his head, he followed the corridor around to the med-room. It wasn’t far. The door panel scanned him and opened promptly. The droid did not prepare him accurately for the sight inside. Aedana lay suspended in air, at least three feet above the cot. It took him a moment to recover from the sight of her floating form.

The squat med-droid snapped its pincers at her, falling a few inches short of being able to grab her. If Hawke was in charge of design, he would make it standard for all med-droids to have thrusters. What was the point of keeping them grounded?

“Zeltrons do not float on their own.” It stated matter-of-factly.

“No, but Jedi do.”

Could a droid bristle? This one seemed to. “Why was their status not disclosed earlier?”

Hawke didn’t have an answer. Or rather, he didn’t have a good one. He didn’t think it mattered. A wound was a wound, regardless.

As they spoke, Aedana began sinking back towards the cot. Her eyes remained closed; her movements seemed odd, like watching someone be controlled by invisible strings. She settled into a cross-legged sitting position and opened her eyes. She looked around the room, grinning from ear to ear.

“It’s done.” There was a mix of satisfaction and relief in her words. 

The droid began examining her without a word. It pulled up her top and Aedana swatted its pincer away. She reached down and pulled off the fresh bacta patch. The med-droid squeaked in annoyance, but her skin underneath was unbroken. There was no evidence of her injury from the previous day.

“See, all better.” She patted the droid on its cylindrical head. Hawke watched with bewilderment, wondering how someone so powerful could just abandon the Jedi. “Sergeant Hawke, we need to speak privately.”

He nodded, “Of course.” The droid squawked some more, riled it couldn’t perform its due diligence. The two exited the small room, remaining silent as they made their way back to the office where they first met.

“What the hell happened to me?” He asked as soon as the door slid shut. It was her; there was no point in keeping a calm and stoic façade. “Did you mess with my brain?” He made a poor attempt to mimic her hand movements when she displayed her power.

He didn’t believe she had anything to do with his memory loss, but she was the only thread he had to pull on. Her expression fell. His words wounded her, and he found himself wishing he hadn't.

“You don’t remember anything? Nothing at all?”

It frustrated him that he couldn’t. It scared him. “I remember standing in the room above the cantina and then l was in the street.”

Aedana placed a hand on either side of her head and sat down in a nearby chair. After a handful of seconds, she looked over to him with an expression as confused as he felt.

“Other than being clones, was there anything your – creators changed about you?” She stumbled over the sentence.

“Many things. The Kaminoans were obsessed with creating the perfect soldier.”

She inhaled and held in the air before releasing it slowly. She had something to say, but was holding it in. Considering how blunt she had been the day before, he wondered what made her so hesitant. What scared her enough to be this reluctant? Cold fear sliced through him. A memory from long ago floated to the top of all others, from before active duty; a week of testing with Nala Se. She said she was testing their response times. His batch brother – _what was his batch number, he couldn’t remember_ – he complained of blacking out. Hawke begged him to keep quiet, but his fellow clone had too much faith in their creators. His brother was never seen of again. They were just scared boys, but it taught him a lesson. _Never share your thoughts and feelings with others_. Only trust his brothers, no one else. 

“I can help you stay calm – if you wish.” His emotional spiral must have been shouting at her mind, because she stood up and held out her hand. He wanted to step back, but training held him in place.

The suggestion was offensive to him, even if she meant well. He felt human, not that he had any basis to compare it to. But he was a man who was chained to a war he had no choice but to fight. It was his purpose. He wouldn’t exist for any other reason. And for this reason, his thoughts were the only thing he could call his own.

“No. My mind isn’t yours to change.” His voice was quiet, but firm.

She nodded and held her hand against her chest. Her face flushed a darker maroon.

“I’m sorry. You’re right. I mention it only if you need it.” She moved away from him and sat down heavily, her head in her hands. “We need to contact the Jedi. The Republic. Something terrible is happening.”

“We’re at war.” He remarked. Aedana whipped her face up to look at him, her eyes burning.

“I know, I feel it every second of the day, pounding in my head.” Each word was cold and biting. She closed her eyes and her demeanor calmed. “No, this is something different.”

Hawke wondered if this was the source of her hesitation. Having to face those she left behind. Or was it something to do with her Jedi powers? What did she see that he couldn’t?

“How does your “sense” work? Is it like gut instinct?”

The question seemed to focus her. “A bit. I think. But it’s more than just your mind and body telling you something. The Force binds together everything that exists. The entire universe.” She paused and smiled, and he wondered if she missed the life she was forced into. Would he miss being a soldier if he ever stopped?

“And clones?”

“Yes.” The smile reached her eyes. “The force is in every living thing. It connects us. So when something unnatural happens, say a mysterious stranger hiding on a rooftop, taking control of a person's mind – I suppose you could call it a gut instinct – but it feels like the whole of the universe is telling me to intervene.”

“Is it ever wrong?”

“No...” She trailed off. “But interpretation can be wrong.”

In a scene very similar to when they first met, in this very office, Hawke sat down in a nearby chair. Despite their attempt at an investigation, their venture into Khata City was a perfect demonstration of one step forwards, two steps back. He felt like he understood less now than he did yesterday.

“Before I decide anything, I need you to tell me everything that happened, including everything you “sensed”. From the top.”


	5. With Friends Like These...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After recuperating from her injury, former Jedi Aedana Nyx is biding time as she waits to hear how Republic Command wishes to approach the most recent chain of events.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had such a case of writer's block on this chapter. Not sure why ... I've rewritten it several times and I've gotten to the point where I'm just gonna post what I have and keep going. lol, enjoy!

Aedana answered all the Sergeant’s questions, even some he did not ask. She told him how she heard the sound of his comm-link, she told him how she felt his mind shut off, how he put on his helmet and began walking towards the city center. How the dark shadow she sensed in each of the clone’s minds seemed to expand and agitate while he was in this fugue state. She explained in detail how she sensed someone watching them from the warehouse roof, that their actions stemmed from a place of ill intent. How she knew they were hired to target the clones, but not why. He listened in silence and then quietly asked her to leave so he could complete his report.

Feeling at a loss for what to do, she found herself walking down the hallways, reaching out for whatever ethereal signs or clues might point her towards a way to solve the predicament she found herself in. As she turned down the corridor to the med-room, she spotted two troopers waiting outside the door. One seemed to be goading the other on. They wore a casual uniform instead of their instantly recognizable armor. She assumed they were off duty.

“Arno, Cal.” She called out. “How are you?”

The two troopers looked at each other sheepishly. They were caught trying to check in on the patient, by said patient. 

“Good.” They each said the word at the same time, out of practice with having to engage in such pleasantries. “We were wondering if you were hungry? We have uneaten rations-”

She was hungry. It hadn’t quite hit her until now. Maybe a full belly would help untangle her mind. “I would love to join you.”

She followed them down the corridor, smiling at their childlike sense of mischief. They were hoping to trick her, and she was completely and utterly curious as to why. The mind was always where she excelled. Some of her trainers believed it to stem from natural Zeltronian empathic abilities, but whatever the case, a person’s emotional state was always clear to her. Knowing a person’s mind was easy; their mind easier to heal than their body.

“I was wondering something.” Arno asked, crowding her on her right side. Cal mirrored his comrade on her left. “How did you know it was _us_?”

Aedana smiled and raised a brow. “Do people have trouble telling you apart?”

“All of us. Of course.” Cal grinned. “Sometimes I look at Arno and think, wait a second – when did I get so ugly -”

Arno reached behind her and punched Cal in the arm. She reached up and tapped each of their heads, it was an expression of sibling affection and annoyance between Zeltronians, lost on the clones. She hadn’t meant to use it, but they reminded her so strongly of her little cousins, it only felt natural. Unlike their sergeant, they did not seem to mind her proximity.

“You both look rather lovely.” Cal laughed uproariously, while Arno made a poor attempt to hide his embarrassment. Aedana hadn’t meant the comment in any way other than platonic, but she made a note of Arno’s reaction. She might need to watch her words with this one. “Your minds and emotions are just as distinct as anyone else.”

“Yeah, but we’re clones. We all think the same and act the same.” Cal said it with a smile and a tone that suggested this was a sentiment he often heard.

Aedana shrugged. “You all feel no more same or different than any close family would be.”

“I like it.” Arno nodded at Cal thoughtfully. “Brothers.”

The corridor entered into a larger room, packed with rows of tables and chairs. One table was laden with ripped open ration packs. It was the source of a variety of interesting smells. The two soldiers looked at her expectantly.

“Looks like you’ve laid out quite the feast.”

“Arno thinks he’s some kind of ration wizard, and I am dying to know what a – person such as yourself thinks of his creation.” Cal almost said Jedi, but censored himself.

She sat down before the messy arrangement and looked to both of them. “What should I try first?”

Arno gingerly pushed a plate towards her and she leaned in to inspect it. Seemed to have the texture of bread that wanted to be soup. Cal handed her a spoon.

“Interesting-” Shrugging, she scooped up a conservative bite and held it in her mouth to taste. It wasn’t terrible, but it was the kind of food she could stomach better if she was starving. Strangely, it tasted very similar to a Weequay dish she had once. “Wow. That is –uh – something else.”

“Something good?” Arno asked, hopeful.

“Hmm - for me personally, I know of a couple sauces that would make this very good.”

Arno looked crushed, while Cal giggled like a very happy young boy. “You’re way too nice. It’s okay to say it’s shit.”

“No, no. You just have to market it to the right people. Weequays for example. My master would have loved this. It tastes just like the dish he would always eat.”

She had not meant to speak of her master. The regret was immediate and she hoped they were not curious. It was hard to think of Master Kohi without her throat closing and her eyes filling with tears. Even before her decision to leave the Order, he abandoned her. He, more than anyone, understood the struggle she faced with overcoming her race’s heightened emotions and inborn predilection to form connections. He was always patient with her, until the day he wasn’t. One day she found herself alone and reassigned to the Temple. How could a Jedi just walk away from their Padawan? It confused her on good days and made her feel sick on bad days. She dealt with it by pretending it justified her decision to leave. 

The clones looked at her and shared a look. She could feel their curiosity grow.

“I’m curious why you came here – to Asher.” Cal asked, leaning back in his chair. “If you don’t mind me asking.”

Aedana let the spoon drop back into the bowl, distracted with how she should answer. She was learning very quickly that her chosen exile sat very poorly with the clones. It was a different sort of disappointment than that of her fellow Jedi. Hawke was conflicted. Another – Hex, she believed he was called – just didn’t like her. He hadn’t said as much, but the feeling billowed from him like an icy squall.

“I was born here.” She smiled, but it was not genuine. There was a lot of heartache behind her reasoning and she did not feel it was fair to lay it all before a couple of guileless soldiers. 

“Ah, so Khata is your home.”

She exhaled and shook her head. Their well-meaning questions made her want to honour their curiosity, but it was still a difficult subject to discuss. “I may have left the Order, but the Jedi Temple will always be my home. I was taken when I was very young, but I have vague memories of my parents. It made sense to return here.”

Cal felt sorry for her, which endeared him to her a little more. “Well, at least you have your family, right?”

Aedana shook her head. “Some distant relatives.” She inhaled sharply. “But my parents died shortly before the war. “

For once, Cal’s expression sobered. “Sorry. It – must have been awful to find out.”

She smiled, grateful for his attempt to alleviate her grief and reached over to squeeze his hand in thanks. “It was sad – and complicated –.”

The two of them watched her with patience, waiting for her to continue.

“They’re my parents and they’re gone – but they are strangers to me. As soon as I could walk and talk, I was sent to the Temple. It’s hard to miss people I never had.”

The three of them sat hunched over the table, ration experiments forgotten.

“I think I get it. All us clones have shared blood, but it doesn’t mean I feel the same about all of them.” Arno looked at her thoughtfully. “Are you sad about leaving your Jedi?”

“Yes, very much.”

“Then why’d you leave?” He spooned some of the grub into his mouth, making a face as he did.

Aedana did not speak of this often, even though it was never far from her mind. In Khata, the very thing she was – a former Jedi – happened to be a sensitive topic. Not many cared to know of her troubles and concerns. However, when asked she rarely evaded an honest question.

“I don’t think I can explain it properly -” She paused. Of course she could. She just didn’t know how to present her reason in a way that wouldn’t offend a soldier. Might as well speak the truth. “I was raised to be a diplomat and a healer. I felt my purpose was betrayed when we were asked to lead a war.” A low beeping issued from one of their commlinks. For the briefest of moments, panic surged inside her and she steadied herself in the event they also fell into a trance state. No such thing happened.

She shrugged. “I didn’t have much talent with a lightsaber. I knew I couldn’t go down that path -” Her voice caught, and she felt her face warm.

“Well, I can’t say I completely understand, but I do know if you’re no good at fighting, you’re just as likely as the enemy to get your soldiers killed.” Cal took a swig of his drink. “In my book you did the right thing.”

He was kind and, in his kindness, he was offering a solution to absolve her of her guilt. The truth is, the Jedi would not have her fight in the war if her skillset did not allow it. She could have been assigned to the Republic Medical Corp, but her instincts told her to move as far away from the war as she could. Her training pulled her in an opposite direction, towards a life of service, so she ran to Asher Moon and found compromise in the city of Khata. She could still help in her own way.

Arno checked his beeping commlink. “Looks like our shift is coming up, better head out.”

Aedana shook herself from her mood. “And I – I will endeavour to finish my meal. Thank you, Arno, Cal.”

“Ha! Hold your thanks until you make your recovery.”

She smiled as they left, leaving her with much to think about.

* * *

Outfitted in a mechanic’s jumpsuit and a hat that covered most of her face, Var-Tera ventured out from her apartment. The day was nearly over and she had spent the majority of it cowering in a room, fixing a problem she made. If Nala Se had suspicions of her malfunction excuse, she imagined she would find out shortly. But she wouldn’t lie around for that possibility. She needed a contingency in case the worst happened. The streets were a stark difference from her previous jaunt. Now the streets were packed with people, finally finished a long day's work and looking to carouse and forget their responsibilities. Pop up booths and tents had been erected, shrinking the wide avenue into a maze of food vendors, palm readers, and everything in between. She retraced her steps to the warehouse and made it look as if she was wandering aimlessly. The junk and salvage piled behind the building made it difficult to spot anything amiss, but she finally settled on a spot that offered signs of movement beyond the yard’s normal activity. Jutting out from a pile of rusted and jagged pieces of scrap, a metal vane had been sliced clean. Below it lay scraps of blood-stained material. Despite herself, she winced. Being impaled with the impact of a fall off this roof? There were very few she wished that upon. Not being forensically inclined, she kicked some dirt over the evidence and made her way towards the cantina the Jedi had exited. It was enough to know that the Jedi was injured. Stepping into the cantina, it was a dive, but one well cared for by the owner. It was as clean and welcoming as a place like this could be. Filled to the brim with factory workers, they all seemed to be uproariously drunk and taking part of a terrible singing competition. Hardly an eye bothered to turn in her direction as she made her way to the bar.

“What your poison, Mech-ee?” It took her a moment to realize the bar keep was speaking to her. Right, her outfit. Mech-ee – local slang for mechanic. The older human male stared at her with a cheerful smile as she sat down on one of the bar’s mismatched stools. 

“I’ll take a Fire Dancer if you got it.” A favoured drink amongst the locals. He nodded and set about preparing it. It didn’t take long before a tall fruity drink, reeking of sweet alcohol was placed before her.

“Haven’t seen you around, you new?” He spoke with accented Basic, Huttese was probably his native tongue.

Var-Tera shrugged. “Nah, my old place ran out of interesting stories. I'm looking to find new ones.”

“Hey, you starved for stories from the factory floor? Then this the place for you.”

“Hmm - guess I picked the wrong bar.” She smiled and took a tiny sip of the drink. “Although I did hear folks chatting about some sort of scuffle from earlier today. Know anything about that?”

His brows raised and he looked at her carefully. “It’s been a fairly quiet one, why?”

Var-Tera endeavoured to appear non-chalant, with a pinch of disinterest. “I heard of a Zeltron woman running up and down the streets, causing a fuss. Don’t see much of their kind down here in the south end. You know of her?”

It was the barkeep’s turn to play at non-commital. “There’s a few around the neighbourhood.” He shrugged. “You know how they be, all emotions and temper. You describe most of them.”

She could feel his walls coming down. At that moment, a table on the far end began calling and waving the barkeep over and he left to investigate. As she weighed the tedious task of talking up a half a dozen locals for information, the drunk next to her moved a little too close. He was a twi’lek. also wearing mechanic’s coveralls. He had half stripped and tied the arms of the coveralls around his waist.

She leaned away. “Can I help?”

“You.” He slurred. “You want to know about the Nyx girl?

“Who?

“Red skin. Blue hair.” He held his hands in front of his chest, emphasizing where breasts would be.

“A woman?”

The twi’lek’s eyes lit up and he smiled as if she solved some great riddle. “Yeah. I can tell you about her.”

She waited for him to speak, but he just stared at her expectantly. He pushed his empty bottle towards her. After a moment, she sighed and dropped some credits on the counter. The price of information was a drink, apparently.

He pocketed it and leaned in conspiratorially, his alcohol saturated breath washing over her. “Word is she had some sort of altercation with one of them Republic soldiers. _A clone_.” He whispered. “My old lady saw a soldier dragging her through the street.”

“Who is she?”

“Not sure. Some say she did something terrible.” He belched. “Got herself kicked out of the Jedi, so she came crawling back here.”

“Where can I find her?”

“Why, you need some off the books medicine?” He made a show of looking over both shoulders. "Go talk to Daneksi’vren. Dani to his friends. He runs Southside Hospice.” A hiccup escaped his lips. “She works for him, he’ll know -”

The alcohol appeared to have gotten the better of him, as he lost balance and crashed to the floor. Most of the patrons turned to see the commotion, some moved to help the muddled man to his feet. Var-Tera used the fuss to exit quietly and without much attention. She wouldn’t get any further information here – it was time to visit a hospice.

* * *

Asher Outpost was isolated, and its isolation left Aedana with no direction and nothing of importance to do. Her first attempt to investigate the curiosity surrounding the clones ended in disaster. It didn’t really start, if she was being honest with herself. The mysterious watcher from the warehouse left her ill at ease, and she wondered if she would have returned to Khata by now, if not for the fear of shadowy accomplices. The mystery of it all left her restless; the emotional state of the clones did not help. It was difficult to be surrounded by those who had little faith in her; Arno and Cal being the exception.

Night had fallen over this stretch of Asher and Aedana turned towards the med-room. For all intents and purposes, it was slowly becoming her quarters. No one directed her elsewhere, so she continued to use it as such. She may no longer be part of the Jedi Order, but she could still take advantage of her training. Perhaps focused meditation would provide answers that eluded her. 

Nearing the doors of the temporary quarters, she sensed a familiar mind, but mired in anger and confusion. Sergeant Hawke? No, despite his occasional anger towards her, he trusted her. This mind did not. Aedana stopped a few steps away from the door. This was Trooper Hex. The tangled shadow she sensed in each of the clone’s minds was particularly violent with him, but he was not the blank slate Hawke had become at the cantina. He was speaking with the med-droid in low tones. His emotional state did not escalate, he did not seem to be out of control. Taking a chance, she stepped forwards and pressed the access button for the door. It wooshed open to a startled looking clone and an impassive droid.

“Trooper Hex.” Aedana clasped her hands together, holding them loosely in front of her stomach before slightly bowing her head. She greeted him with the respect she was trained to show a Jedi Master.

He scowled and grabbed a datapad from the counter, making as if to storm out of the room. Her training took over. Healing the body may still pose difficulties, but helping an angered and damaged mind was natural. It was clear she would have to speak with him as a patient, rather than an acquaintance.

“I am sorry I have caused you distress.” Her calm voice had an immediate effect, and some of his anger deflated. “Would you like to talk about how you feel?”

Whether he was aware of it or not, he angled away from her. “You don’t want to hear it.” He was angry at her, but she could feel some of that anger being directed towards someone he trusted. A brother.

Aedana moved into the room so she wasn’t blocking the door. “Maybe not, but I feel I’m not the only one you are angry with. And I might be the safer choice to confide in.”

He remained stone-faced, but his mind wavered. He wasn’t attacking her, or storming out, so she counted this as progress.

“May I ask you a question?”

He didn’t mind, but his pride wouldn’t let him say yes.

“You and Sergeant Hawke have very similar minds.” It was his ongoing bad mood that made it easy to differentiate them. They were harder to tell apart than any of the others.

“We’re batch brothers.”

Aedana wasn’t sure what that meant, but inferred it meant they were close. Or had been close. “You trained together? Brought up together?” She prompted.

He nodded, but remained silent, his scowl unchanged.

“Are you upset with him for working with me? Or because he hasn’t told you what is happening?”

This angered him, a question too far. Hex stepped close and jabbed a finger into her shoulder. “I don’t like that he drops everything to do what you ask. Why, because you used to be a Jedi?”

“Trooper Hex is experiencing high levels of distress. He is causing patient Aedana Nyx to experience high levels of distress.” The med-droid rotated twice and attempted to move between them. Hex shoved it forcefully back into its docking plate. If he wasn’t burdened by strict training and indoctrination, he would have attacked her. She knew this line of questioning would sting, but she wanted him to confront why he was angry. He was a raging fire and at the very least, he needed to curb this passion in a more productive direction.

“Do you feel I abandoned the Republic?”

The shadow expanded and flared away from his mind. He was losing control. 

“Why _would_ you stay when you have a slave army to do your work?”

The words caused her heart to ache, but she swallowed any excuse or justification she might come up with. It would only cause him to escalate. As an empath, she could affect his emotional state, but only if she was currently experiencing the desired emotion. The desired state was emotional tranquility; it was difficult to impose such a thing when her own heart was pounding in her chest. Without warning or sign, he backed away and held his head in his hands, stammering incoherently. Aedana reached out, attempting to free his mind in the same way she did with Sergeant Hawke. But he crouched over, shaking in silent agony. She stepped towards him tentatively, and her caution was poorly rewarded. In a split second he straightened and turned on her, bullrushing her into the durasteel countertops that lined the wall of the room. A commotion from the hallway diverted her attention as Hawke rushed through the door. Whether the droid alerted him, or he happened to be walking by at the right time, she was thankful for his presence.

“What the hell is this? Hex, stand down!”

Hex, however, was not in a listening mood. A trained fighter can turn any object into an improvised weapon, and he jammed the thin edge of his datapad into her throat, nearly crushing her larynx. Hawke leapt towards them and pulled the other trooper away. He resisted, trying to twist out of his commanding officer’s arms. Aedana held her throat and gasped for air – the damage was minimal. In front of her, Hex was nearly feral with rage, and ripped himself free, turning on Hawke.

Having briefly recovered, Aedana rushed over and hooked her arm under his chin and placed her free hand against his shaved head. With all her will and strength, she focused on bringing him back. Using the same technique she used with Hawke, she shrunk the raging storm in his mind to a shadowy pinpoint.

Her arms began to ache, but the alternative was to allow a physical altercation between brothers. Without the unnatural influence plaguing his mind, he finally stopped resisting and dropped to his knees. Before she could turn to the med-droid, Hawke hauled the trooper to his feet.

“What the hell were you thinking?” Hawke’s words were quiet and ice-cold. They struck fear in her own heart. Hex’s posture sagged and he was shaken violently by his sergeant. “Answer me, soldier!”

“Hawke, he was not in his right mind.” Without thinking, she placed a hand on his arm. She froze, but the routine anxiety did not present itself. Instead, her touch acted like a grounding rod - his anger and fear stabilized and he moved Hex over to the cot. 

The weight of the galaxy was on his shoulders. He was cycling through many thoughts and emotions; self-doubt being chief amongst them. With great effort, his posture straightened, and he looked to her in earnest.

“We are clones. We have no family to hold the Republic accountable for our treatment.” He exhaled, preparing to confess his greatest fear. “This defect is a death sentence.”

“No. Someone is doing this to you. They – they'll investigate – and fix it.”

He did not believe this any more than she did. He was absolutely certain that he and Hex were defective and doomed. For the first time since leaving the Order, her purpose began to solidify. If someone was targeting the clones here on Asher, maybe the same was being done elsewhere. Maybe she was meant to be here, meant to help.

“You are human. You are citizens of the Republic. I won’t let that happen.” She emphasized.

“And if you can’t stop it?”

“We run.” He arched his brow. She realized this was not a revolutionary answer, after all, she was the Jedi who ran away. “If you are facing an unfair death, would it not be more honourable to find your purpose elsewhere?”

“You would run away with people you just met?” Hex tried to stand, but Hawke shoved him back down onto the cot. With lifeless indignance, the med-droid scooted over to the cot to begin a silent investigation.

“No, I would be _helping_ people I just met. This is all I’ve done my whole life – a life of service.”

Hawke considered it for a moment and sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “All I know right now - is I will not abandon my brothers.”

Aedana nodded. She had difficulties believing the Republic would condone the murder of their own soldiers. Surely the Jedi would step in? Why even bother with clones if they were to be treated as disposable droids?

“We’ll figure something out, Hawke.”


	6. Looking for Answers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sergeant Hawke, Aedana Nyx, and Var-Tera each attempt to find answers in their own way.

“Wake up!” Sergeant Hawke splashed water across Hex’s face. The clone trooper coughed and sputtered into consciousness, looking around the room before settling on Hawke. Shaking his head, clearing the cobwebs – Hawke knew the feeling. Aedana could free their minds, but the disorientation was a side effect that stayed like a bad hangover.

“Sergeant?” He looked down at his shackled hands and feet, and at the nondescript room they were occupying. It was an unfinished room, its sole piece of furniture a working refresher, but it was close to the control room and the med-room. A benefit in case of emergency. When building this listening post, the Republic hadn’t considered the need for a brig. Before now, Hawke couldn’t fathom a clone needing one. Despite his own personal feelings, they were nothing if not loyal.

“What happened to me?”

Hawke’s stomach twisted, thinking of his own brief memory loss. Aedana was adamant Hex suffered from something different than his own affliction, but it was too much of a coincidence for his taste. The fear of losing control, of killing someone who was not his enemy? It made him sick.

“You don’t remember?”

Hex leaned forwards and rested his head against his bound hands.

“I was talking with the Jedi. And-” He winced. “Is she-”

Hawke shook his head. “Thankfully she can defend herself.” He resisted the urge to shake some sense into his brother. The fear that seized his heart as he watched Hex nearly decapitate Aedana with a datapad, was unparalleled. He and Hex were the last of their training group, the thought of being forced to take him out, even if it was necessary, was unbearable. And if he was being honest, having Aedana die on his watch would cause – some discomfort.

“Tell me what you remember. _Every_ detail.”

Hex knew an order when he heard one, his back straightened and his gaze locked straight ahead.

“I performed the inventory like you ordered. The report is on my datapad – at first everything appeared normal.” His jaw snapped shut, resisting the urge to share his discovery.

“Continue.” Hawke prompted.

With monumental effort, Hex continued. “While checking my own locker, I noticed discolouration on my gloves and vambrace – I scanned them, and they were covered with organic matter. I – I was paranoid - I took it to the med-droid to examine and – he said it was a mix of things. Blood. Brain matter.”

There was a heavy pause between them. Neither wanting to acknowledge what was being said.

“Hawke, I’ve killed someone, and I can’t remember doing it.” His eyes glazed over. "What’s going to happen to me?”

“One thing at a time. How does Aedana fit in to all of this? Why did you attack her?”

“The Jedi? Ex-Jedi.” Hex shifted his gaze to Hawke and his jaw set. “She came into the med-room, getting into my head. We don’t answer to her. She’s not a soldier.” His voice grew angrier.

“Careful, Hex. You’re not helping your case.”

“Why are you on her side? As soon as she arrived things started going to hell. What’s going on?”

Hawke sighed. He was hoping to have a better grasp of the situation before informing his men of what was happening. Keeping Hex in the dark would only aggravate a tense situation. He deserved to know what was happening to his own mind.

“I’m on her side – for now, because she’s on ours.”

The trooper’s expression darkened and his gaze turned towards the floor.

“She captured a holo-vid of a clone trooper attacking and killing civilians.” He stared pointedly at the bound soldier. It would appear one part of the mystery was solved. At this point, unless disproven, it seemed obvious the trooper in the vid was Hex. “She came here to ask for advice on what to do. She wanted no part in the investigation, but Republic Command requested she assist with the matter until they could send for a formal investigator. Her only motive is to help us.”

Hex shook his head, resisting the explanation. Hawke wondered if he was still under whatever control he had been put under. Hex got angry easily, but never to this degree.

“No, I think she’s pretty and she’s soft, and you -”

“Watch it, soldier.” He warned. He was losing control of the situation, another tick against his leadership record. In any other circumstance, he would report himself as unfit. For now, he would perform his duty until he was relieved. “What is this? Is it because she was a Jedi? I know how you feel about them, is that what this is?”

The trooper scowled and waved his hand dismissively.

“Tell me, Hex. Explain what your issue is.”

“I - I can’t!” He shouted. “I don’t know why – but I wanted to kill her – I remember it being the right thing to do. I can’t explain it.”

The silence that fell between them was deafening. It felt like an eternity had passed since their first tour; a mission burned into their minds with excruciating detail. The recklessness and inexperience of their assigned Jedi got half their squad killed. It was a sin Hex could never forgive. He couldn’t move past it. Despite this, the hostility he held for them never grew beyond mild contempt, not until now.

“I don’t know how I can protect you.” Hex’s face fell. “Aedana believes someone is targeting the clones at this base. She thinks they are trying to – control us. Mess with our minds.”

Hex looked up in disbelief. Granted, it was a crazy theory, but given their situation, crazy compared to what?

“What do you mean, control us?”

“I don’t know.” He shrugged. “But you’re going to have to stow your feelings and get ahold of yourself, because my gut’s telling me she’s the only one who is gonna give a damn about what happens to us.”

* * *

The station grew quiet once again. Arno and Cal were on duty. Hawke was dealing with Hex. There were two clones that Aedana had not met yet – Tik and Day – but they were more interested in food than speaking with her.

With no direction, Aedana found herself attempting to follow her initial plan, before everything fell apart. Sitting in a basic meditative pose, she reached out to the Force for answers that eluded her. For guidance in her next step. Her mind did not turn easily to peace. Hex’s accusations and his rage plagued her thoughts. She agreed with him, the Jedi had no business spear-heading a war, it was why she left. It still hurt to hear him say those words, regardless of whether he was in his right mind.

The med-droid, finished with its earlier examination and apparently satisfied, finally returned to its docking bay. Night had fallen, and she was growing tired, but unable to sleep. Again, she tried to quiet her mind. She tried reaching out for the root of the elusive dealings she had stumbled upon, trying to gain purchase on a situation beyond her immediate surroundings. Who was targeting the clones? Why these ones? Who other than the Jedi could control the minds of the people? A shiver ran down her spine. The Sith? The war fed the dark side of the Force and it in turn fed the ones fighting. A sharp pain pierced her frontal lobe.

Beyond an unfortunate headache, an answer did not present itself. Growing up in the temple, she was often reprimanded for her reliance of her race’s natural empath abilities rather than the Force. Now she often found herself bound by her natural abilities, unable to reach past them. It was possible her abilities were unreliable, but in a galaxy mired by war and strife, all her meditation offered was a sense of shapeless unease.

The night grew long, and she slowly began to doze off.

The quietness of the desolate mountain base fell away and, in its place, came the constant comforting whir of a city in motion. The temperature shifted from an ever-present chill, to blissfully temperate. Peaceful murmurs echoed around an expansive area and she opened her eyes. The whispers vanished. The silence became maddening. Her ears began ringing, desperate to hear what didn’t exist. Aedana stood at the entrance of the Coruscant temple, and the initial feeling of peace was short lived. Instead of the shining temple she left, it was dull and unkempt. Ahead, the horizon was blocked by a seething dark cloud. It surrounded the building on all sides, choking the light of the distant sun to nothing but a dim haze. All across the grounds of the temple, clones stood at attention, as still and unwavering as a droid army. Wispy black tendrils seeped out from under their helmets, twisting and tethering up to the surrounding storm. Despite the cold terror that stemmed from seeing an army on the grounds of her temple, the true darkness came from within. She did not know why she was certain, but she _knew_ the sacred building had been desecrated.

_Turn around._

Obeying the familiar voice, she turned to see a lanky Weequay standing before the doors, his tough, leathery skin stretched into a pained grimace. Master Kohi! She reached her arm to him and as she did, the darkness rushed in around her, pouring into the temple doors. Blaster fire erupted all around them.

_I sent you away. You shouldn’t be here!_

Her Master’s words blistered through her mind as blaster fire tore his body apart.

 _NO!_ The thought devolved into incoherent screams. As suddenly as the vision had taken hold of her mind, it fell away, and she found herself sitting on the cot of the Asher base med-room. The door slid open and a visibly shaken Sergeant Hawke stood on the other side.

Aedana touched her face. It was wet with tears. She knew she had lost control. It hadn’t happened since she was a child, but the feeling was unmistakable. Despite the hurt between them, despite the Jedi code and its prohibition on forming attachments, Master Kohi was as a father to her.

“My master -” He wasn’t dead, he couldn’t be. No, she felt people die – become one with the Force. This felt different. Darker. A sob escaped her lips, and she leaned forwards, touching her head to her knees. Her emotional state was being projected to anyone nearby, an inborn trait, rather than a Force ability. Hawke moved into the room and after a moment of hesitation, sat on the bench next to her cot. Clutching her head, she dragged up a modicum of control over her mind and straightened her back. She sensed his relief at no longer being manipulated by her emotional state, but he also made no move to leave. He stayed where he was.

A moment was all it took for her to gain composure. Perhaps it was a premonition. In wartime, interpretation of such a vision was bound to be nebulous. It could be construed literally, or it might be metaphorical: war was terrible, it was destroying the Jedi Code. 

“Your master?” He prompted, after her prolonged silence.

 _Kohi abandoned you._ _He deserves an ill fate._ She shook off the cruel thoughts. After everything, she loved and hated him with equal measure. “I had a bad dream.” She offered up a half-hearted smile. “Probably an after effect of eating Arno’s creations.”

“It didn’t feel like a bad dream.” He ignored her poor attempt at humour.

She rubbed the sleep from her eyes and pulled in a stabilizing breath. “There is no need to stand guard, Sergeant Hawke.”

“I wasn’t-”

One pointed look from her was enough for him to swallow the lie.

“What happened?” He wanted to make sense of what was happening. Despite his extensive training, he found himself preposterously out of his depth. Hawke was losing control, or at least, he felt like he was losing control. If he wasn’t a clone, if he wasn’t someone designed for war, she would think him particularly ill-suited to be a soldier. She found a certain kinship with him for this reason, even if she seemed to annoy him more often than not. Despite this, his presence was a comfort. It was an anchor for her true calling, the calling she had been trained to follow. Master Kohi’s voice echoed in her mind, _Jedi use their powers to defend and to protect. Jedi respect life, in any form._ She didn’t know how to interpret this now. A year ago, it was clear. Without question, she knew she must abstain from the war effort. Now, her certainty was muddy.

“I suspect – I was meant to leave the Order. I’m meant to be here. And - I’m not trying to justify or excuse my decisions in your mind, but something – something terrible is about to happen. And it’s not _just_ the war.” Aedana wiped her eyes and straightened her outfit. How could he understand? How could she explain to anyone who was not Force sensitive?

“I think I understand.” He rubbed a gloved hand over the stubble beginning to grow across his jaw. He wasn’t completely sold on her reasoning but was attempting to meet her halfway. “The universe makes a bad decision, and it’s checking to see if you’ve figured out how to contain the fallout. Hopes you can prevent the next bad decision?”

Despite herself, she laughed. “An interesting interpretation.”

“I don’t see how the galaxy, the force, or whatever, gives a damn about my squad, but I admit I would feel a lot less confident in our outcome if you weren’t here.”

She gave him a grateful smile. Of all possible responses, she had not expected this one.

* * *

Var-Tera sat in a cramped office of Southside Hospice, waiting to speak with a twi’lek the locals called Dani. According to an assistant, he had several matters needing his personal attention. Convenient he had no time for her after Aedana Nyx’s name was mentioned. Looking around the space, she marveled at the sheer amount of accumulated _stuff._ Floor to ceiling shelves covered every wall, not even the area around the door or window had been spared. It was an organized mess and hard to parse any sort of reason to the order other than ‘not on the floor’. Convenient for her, it left many clever areas to hide one of her Listeners. She placed the small device into an etched stone bowl, which sat on a shelf near the room’s single desk. The bowl was filled with an assortment of random tech, and a fine layer of dust covered the random assortment. She was confident her device would not be disturbed or noticed.

The device was cheap and uncomplicated, but it did its job. It listened for conversations, recorded them, and would transmit after a certain amount of data was collected. Var-Tera moved slowly down the row of shelves, making it look like she had investigated the entire wall of objects in a fit of boredom.

Eventually she settled into one of the worn chairs crammed up against the desk. Using a borrowed datapad, she connected to the holonet – and was immediately drowned in information overload. After a futile moment of browsing local forums, she punched in a filter for anything mentioning both “khata”, “jedi” and “aedana nyx” in the same text. The datapad’s computing abilities were sluggish at best, but after a moment it began displaying a few brief news entries. Only one vid contained information worth viewing. A stalwart Zeltronian appeared on screen, his black hair cropped close to his head, his skin more crimson than Aedana’s deep maroon. The vid started and the man began announcing a block of information.

_Today Khata City receives back notable inhabitant, Jedi Aedana Nyx. As of this broadcast, no word has been given on what capacity this return entails, as Asher Moon remains neutral during this time of galactic unrest. Born in Khata North, Nyx survives both parents, each having perished in the Arx Collapse earlier this year. Extended members of the Nyx family were contacted for comment, and have yet to respond._

Var-Tera let the datapad drop into her lap with a sigh. The knowledge that this colony was the Jedi’s birthplace was useless, but family could always be used as collateral. Looking around the crowded office, the words of the drunk twi’lek pushed their way to the forefront of her mind. _You need some off the books medicine?_ It would seem the Jedi was peddling her wares as a healer, enough to have garnered a reputation for doing so. Picking up the datapad once more, she updated her search to include medicine and healer. With this inclusion, several new reports populated the results, each one filed by a City Administrator. Appears she ran afoul of the city’s medical auditors on a number of occasions. Interesting. 

Further investigation was placed on hold as the door to the office swung open. A rotund twi’lek, dressed in deep green robes draped over a nurse's coveralls, barged through the office door.

“My deepest apologies my dear. I am absolutely swamped without my colleague.”

She nodded in acceptance. “Would your colleague be Aedana Nyx?”

“Yes, yes.” He gave her a once over while squeezing behind the desk. “Doesn’t help with the medical aspect, mind you.”

Var-Tera gave what she hoped was a reassuring smile. “Do I look like I’m an Administrator?”

“Hmph.” His expression was cheerful, but his eyes flashed with mistrust. “How can I help you?”

“I was hoping to speak with her, do you know when she’ll be back?”

Dani waved dismissively. “She’s taken up with a boy. You know Zeltronians, all passion, no self-control.” 

“Heard rumour she’s a Jedi. Aren’t they supposed to be above all that?”

“Oh, she gave it all up. Decided to be sensible for once and come home.” He folded his hand together and placed them in his lap, out of sight. Outside the office she heard light movement.

“Well, in that case, I suppose I’ll leave you to it. Might swing by tomorrow, see if she’s returned.”

Dani smiled, showing off teeth as sharp as fangs. “Sorry I couldn’t help, and no rush. We all move a little slower here.” The atmosphere changed, and she began feeling a little claustrophobic.

In a constantly moving galaxy, there were always pockets of people who turned their backs on everyone else. One of us, or an outsider. No in-betweens. Var-Tera was once again reminded that this small colony did not care much for outsiders. Either that, or the people she talked to were fiercely loyal to this Jedi woman.

“Good day.” She mustered a smile and backed out of the room. The assistant was waiting at the door with a hand to his hip, offering no illusions that it was resting on the butt of a blaster pistol. She was immensely curious as to what transpired to have them so on edge.

She nodded to the assistant and made a quick exit out the door. Despite the twi’lek’s assurances, she had a feeling he and the Jedi were running some sort of extra-legal clinic out of the hospice. It was fairly commonplace in areas with highly regulated medical systems. The have-nots had to get help somewhere.

Keeping to the back roads and dimly lit alley ways, Var-Tera made it halfway to her temporary quarters, before receiving an alert from her left behind Listener. A conversation had already been recorded.

 _Any idea who she is?_ The voice of the assistant.

A brief pause, after which Dani responded. _Not a clue. She isn’t local. Aedana’s never mentioned her. Got a bad feeling about her though._

_Gonna do anything? Contact the clone?_

_Nah, she’s safe with them for now. Last thing we need is a spotlight on us. Admin is already breathing down our necks._

Another pause followed by the sound of them leaving the office. With nothing worth listening to, the Listener stopped its recording.

It would seem the Jedi was holed up at the Republic listening post. This changed things. Maybe her injury was severe enough to lay her up for a while. Despite her display of power on the rooftop, Jedi weren’t invincible. If they were, the underground wouldn’t have a market for lightsabers of the fallen.

Reaching the apartment complex, Var-Tera climbed the stairs, formulating a plan as she went. According to Nala Se’s requirements, the next transmission she was scheduled to send out was tomorrow morning. She didn’t want to assume anything. She highly doubted whatever she was meant to be doing was sanctioned by the Republic. That was the reason the Kaminoans hired people like her – plausible deniability. Now because of her own curiosity, a Jedi was aware of what was happening.

At the top of the stairs, the hair on the back of her neck began to prickle. A gut feeling, the feeling of being watched kept her frozen in place. She remained in the shadow of the stairwell, waiting for something to happen. Minutes passed and the corridor remained silent, bathed in a dull yellow light and flickering holo signs. Walking slow, she kept her head on a swivel, watching for anything amiss. 

Part of her wanted to believe this was a simple case of paranoia, and she pressed the access button of her room with the hope her instincts were getting carried away. The door was unlocked and slid open without prompting for her ID. Without hesitation, her hand went for her concealed blaster pistol, but instead of brandishing it, her arm locked in place. Fear spiked her heart rate and she looked around wildly, watching for a threat. The normal pain and discomfort from a stun was not present, but her limbs were locked. She was unable to move. Her eyes began adjusting to the darkened interior and the light from the corridor pushed in far enough for her to see the outline of a body, collapsed on the ground. She strained against the invisible force holding her in place.

From the darkness a voice whispered. “Cooperate and you won’t meet the same fate of you friend.”


	7. Past & Present

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As a mysterious threat looms over head, the paths of all involved begin to converge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was hoping to get this chapter out sooner, but for some reason ever since I've been forced to work from home I'm finding less time to write :(  
> In any case, I hope you enjoy!

Var-Tera was trapped. Unable to move, she now heard voices from the shadows. This was a nightmare, it had to be. She grunted and tried freeing her arms, her body. Nothing. She remained trapped.

“Cooperate.” The voice repeated. It was hoarse. Rough. In pain.

She strained her eyes, desperate to see across the darkened room. “Who are you? What do you want?” Was all she could manage through clenched teeth.

“I will release you if you agree to a civil conversation.”

She said nothing and stopped struggling. Slowly, her limbs began to relax and she gained control over her body once more. In that moment she ripped her pistol from its holster and fired into the darkness. Across the room, a figure stood silhouetted by the red glow of the blaster fire. She aimed in their direction. For a second the air and sound in the room stopped and an invisible force pulled her into the darkened room. The door slid shut, sealing her in. Something held her up above the floor, but as much as she flailed and grasped, she found no purchase. _The Jedi?_ Her heart began to race. So they found her after all. Something metallic clattered to the ground below her feet.

“Put them on or join your partner.”

_What partner?_

A second of disorientation passed before she felt the ground beneath her feet. She was free. The velocity of which she was forced into the room knocked the gun from her hand. The only thing left to defend herself with was a vibroblade hanging securely on her belt, but she only ever encountered a Jedi once. She had no concept of how to fight them, or more importantly – how to succeed in fighting them. Doubtful she would also get this Jedi to fail while leaping from a rooftop. After short consideration, she opted for obedience. Feeling around her feet, her fingers brushed across unlocked binders. Placing them around her wrists, it occurred to leave them loose enough for her to escape, but as soon as she had the thought, the binders locked shut on their own.

“Sit down.”

Var-Tera obeyed, and with a little difficulty sat cross legged on the floor. Footsteps shuffled towards the door and a button was pressed. The dim lights of the apartment flickered to life. She blinked and squinted until her sight adjusted. The attacker may have been a Jedi, but this was not _her_ Jedi. Not even a Zeltron. An older, lanky Weequay stared down at her and it was clear he was hurt. His shoulders were hunched, and blood passed through his fingers as he clutched his gut. Scanning the room, it told a story of what happened before her arrival. A Siniteen male lay on the floor, his face turned away from her. His hands were gone, the stumps black and charred. The missing hands had not gotten far, they lay on the ground in front of him, along with two blades.

“Damn it.” She muttered. The Weequay was clearly weak from the previous battle. “I could have taken you.”

His harsh laughter turned into a cough. “Are you sure? I am injured and still have you subdued.”

The Weequay limped towards the body and turned it over with a nudge of his foot. “What do you know of this man?”

 _This man’s_ eyes were closed and as she watched, his nostrils flared, and brow twitched. Curious – he wasn’t dead. But to answer the question, yes – she knew quite a lot about him. He was Arac Qi. A fellow mercenary hired by the Kaminoans to do their dirty work throughout the galaxy at large.

To the Weequay she said, “Don’t know, never seen him.”

His neutral expression turned into a scowl. “Lies.”

Damn wizard. Her resolve meant nothing if he was able to read her mind. She looked around the apartment once more. It was difficult to tell due to her previous table turning measures, but the room had been turned over.

“I have no idea who he is, or who you are. All I know is that two strange men have forced their way into my apartment.” Her voice was strong, but she was scared. “You should leave.”

“First, I would like to know what you think of this story: A Separatist conspiracy exists to tamper with the clone army, to turn them against the Republic. However, one can’t act on such a claim without evidence. This brings me here to Asher moon. I discover there are two operatives stationed in the city of Khata working towards this goal and encounter this gentleman.” He nods towards the Siniteen on the floor. “In short order I uncover hours of recorded vids he has made of the clones. I plan to confront him, but he receives a message that sends him to this apartment.”

“And what, you just decided to attack him?” Cold perspiration gathered across her arms and back. Not for his accusation – he thought this was a Separatist plot. Maybe he couldn’t read her mind afterall. No, she had not been told Arac was to be part of this job. Whatever he was doing – Nala Se didn’t feel it necessary to inform her of it. The fact that he had been called to her apartment meant that bitch knew she screwed up the mission. Probably sent Arac to take care of her. Loath as she was to admit it, this Weequay’s interference probably saved her life.

“Unfortunately, your friend did not take kindly to being apprehended.”

“He’s not my friend.” Now that was the truth. “What’s your plan here Jedi? That’s what you are, aren’t you? Why are you wasting time saving a few clones when the galaxy is on fire?”

He smiled and straightened his posture. She noted the blood around his wound had dried. “This has nothing to do with saving a few clones. They have been tampered with and can no longer be trusted.” His eyes shone with righteous anger. “You and the clones will be apprehended and brought to Coruscant for due process.”

* * *

_You have a communication request from General Stass Allie._

Hawke’s words resounded in her head as she made her way to the comm room. Aedana’s palms grew clammy and her heart rate picked up, but her resolve did not waver. If she was to resume contact with a member of the Jedi Order, she was glad it was with one of the cousins. Both were wise and fair, and they never failed to offer good advice. They were among the few who wished her well after making her request to leave the Order. Her mind raced over what Master Allie might want to discuss. What did she want to tell Aedana in private, without an audience? 

Opening the door to a comm room, she walked to the main hub and looked down at the console, feeling conflicted. The temptation to contact Master Kohi was overwhelming, but only because he had been on her mind as of late. No, if there was to be contact, she would let him make the first move.

After making sure the door was sealed, she entered the code she was given into the room’s holoprojector. It was not long before a Tholothian wavered into being, stern and beautiful despite being distorted through the poor image of the hologram.

Aedana bowed deeply. “Master Stass Allie.”

“Young Aedana, how are you?”

“I am good. I serve the people of Khata as I have been trained.”

The master smiled, but her expression was stern. “I see that. And I understand your position on the war, I realize your decision to come forward with what you witnessed was not easy.”

“I only want what is best.”

The other woman nodded. “I, along with two members of Republic High Command met to discuss this – matter.” Pleasantries were now over, it would seem. The Jedi Master looked around the room before continuing. “I was present at this meeting, I felt, as a formality. A Republic Intelligence agent was tasked with investigating and ‘containing’ the Asher outpost issue.” Even through the hologram, and lightyears apart, Aedana could feel the concern and unease layered through her message.

“There’s something else Master? Something you felt?”

Apprehension was etched deep across Master Allie’s face. “The Republic officers may have been trying to appease the Council with their solution. Their words spoke of investigation, but the Force was dark around their hearts and minds.”

Aedana grew cold as fear gripped her body. Hawke was right. How far they had fallen! The Republic was willing to destroy living beings rather than heal or rehabilitate.

“How can the Jedi let this happen? Why are we standing idly by while these men are treated like property?”

Stass Allie frowned but did not grow upset at the outburst. “The clones serve just as the Jedi also serve. We are each trained from a young age to aid and protect the Republic. It _does not_ make them or us property. If a Jedi turns from their path -”

“We don’t get executed and dissected for further research, do we?”

Only silence from the other line.

Master Allie glanced downward, and her expression was pensive. Aedana said nothing else, fearing her words crossed the line of decorum.

“This is no longer a simple mystery.” Allie straightened, looking Aedana in the eye. “But Republic Command will not allow us to openly interfere with internal military decisions. Especially when our evidence is what they call a ‘gut feeling’.”

The fact she did not even attempt to counter her accusation was telling. She started to reply in anger, but her response was cut short by a gentle gesture from the other woman.

“As I said, I do not trust their motives. Enough so, that I have contacted a Jedi Master near Asher Moon. The clones will be brought back to the Jedi Temple on Coruscant, where they can be diagnosed and treated. It will be difficult for these agents to carry out their clandestine activities here in the Core.”

Despite her calm voice and reassuring words, Aedana felt no peace with this development.

“Aedana - the Jedi - he is your old Master.” Allie waited to gauge her response before continuing. “Kohi is in the area following leads of his own on the clones. He has become quite – single minded of his mission. There is no one else we can afford to send.”

Her heart leapt to her throat and the back of her head began to ache. Of course he was the one. Visions might be difficult to understand, but they all contained some manner of truth. She was terrified to find out what her truth was. Watching her old master die on the temple grounds was not what she wanted to come to pass, regardless of his past treatment of her. In a small space of time, she once again felt dangerously close to losing control. Her telepathy was not welcome here. Despite it being a natural part of her physiology, these men would only view it as manipulation.

“Does he know I am involved?”

Master Allie nodded. “What will you do? Will you leave – go back to Khata and hide? This situation should be contained shortly.”

She entertained the idea for a quick moment. Could she leave these men to an uncertain fate? Stepping back from the Order to keep out of a war she did not believe in was the right choice at the time. It was not the same as leaving these soldiers to die for a reason beyond their limited control.

“No.” She shook her head. “No, I will make sure these soldiers are treated fairly. I will accompany them.’

Master Allie nodded serenely. “Then I hope to see you soon, and Aedana? May the Force be with you.”

“And also with you.” She whispered as the connection terminated.

* * *

“Huh, weird.” Cal muttered, rechecking the log. Arno, having just returned from a patrol of the exterior, removed his helmet and set it on the console next to him.

“Forgot your pass codes again?”

“Ha, ha.” Cal didn’t look up from the screen. “Sarge asked me to look through the outpost logs. Records of who’s coming and going, equipment sign outs and so on.”

Arno sat next to him and looked at the screen. “Seems good.”

“Maybe. It’s a little _too_ good.” He pointed at a record from the beginning of the week displaying entry and exits from the barracks. “Do you remember what time you turned in on these days?”

Arno looked up, face skewed as he attempted to remember. “I don’t know – probably once my shift was over.” He wasn’t getting it; the confusion was apparent across his face.

“Look, last week you turned in around the same time, give or take fifteen minutes – same with me. This week it was the same each day, down to the millisecond.”

“Yeah, weird.”

They sat in silence, each trying to remember events from the last few days. Arno felt a surge of panic as his mind failed him. The more he focused on his monotonous memories the more difficult they were to recall – like trying to remember a dream. Why was it hard to remember? Why was he only realizing it now? Apart from his shift and active duty, everything else suddenly became a vague recollection. Before he could speak of it, Sergeant Hawke walked in, his helmet tucked under his arm. His face was drawn, his shoulders slouched. He had the exhausted look of a soldier fighting for days with little rest or comfort.

“Arno, Cal.” He nodded.

“Sarge, what’s going on? First you have Hex checking inventory, and now me with the records – we're finding things that don’t add up.” A frown deepened on Cal’s face. There wasn’t much humour to be found in this situation.

“I know, I know.” He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “It’s time all of you knew the truth.”

The door slid open and Tik and Day filed in, each clearly unhappy with their downtime being interrupted.

After giving a moment for everyone to settle, Hawke continued. “Our squadron is being targeted, as hard as it is to believe, by individuals who seem to be able to control our minds.” He had a look of a man who struggled to believe the words coming out of his mouth.

The troopers looked at each other, gauging the other’s reactions. Confusion for the most part.

“Like a Dark Jedi? Is this some Separatist plot?” Arno asked.

“Hold up, how did you find out about this?” Day interjected, still frustrated about being called away from what little personal time they were allotted.

Arno rolled his eyes. “I’m sure the Sarge is getting to it.”

“It’s Aedana, isn’t it? That’s why she’s here – she’s investigating?” Cal asked, while elbowing Arno. “Looks like your spy theory was right.” He said with a grin.

“That ex-Jedi?” Day asked, hands on hips.

“Cut the chatter.” Hawke reached into one of his belt pouches, pulling out a holoprojector. “Aedana -”, he looked to Day. “The _ex-Jedi_ – first came out here to turn over a vid she recorded. This.”

He activated the holo and everyone watched as a figure in clone armor marched down a forgotten alleyway. Methodically and without effort, the armored figure killed or maimed a handful of drunks before the vid cut out.

“The quality is too low to see who it is.” Cal muttered, reaching up to backtrack the recording. “Maybe someone stole the armor?”

“On Republic Command’s direction, Aedana and I went to Khata in order to investigate. While in the city – someone – I experienced memory loss.”

The others were visibly uncomfortable with their commanding officer’s distress.

“Aedana managed to free me from whatever control I was under and she was attacked by one of the individuals involved with this mystery.”

Prolonged silence fell over those gathered. No one knew what to say – what could be said?

Eventually Cal turned off the holoprojector and slumped back in his seat. “That armor isn’t yours though.”

Arno bolted up in his chair. “Wait, where’s Hex?”

“Evidence points towards Hex being the attacker. He is currently being held in one of the vacant offices.” Hawke sighed and rubbed his temple. “Something triggered him, and he tried to kill Aedana. He attacked me when I tried to intervene.”

The reality of the situation was beginning to sink in for each of the soldiers. The burden their Sergeant had been bearing for them was terrible and damning.

“We’ve all been infected, haven’t we?” Arno asked, unable to mask the tremble in his voice. There was fear in his eyes as he stared at the powered down holoprojector. “You never told us what happened. You thought _that_ might be us?”

“What’s going to happen to us?” Cal asked.

“The Republic will want to - study what has happened.” Hawke started.

“You mean “reprocess” us.” Day scowled. He began pacing.

This was exactly what Hawke believed would happen, but he didn’t want his men to lose all hope. Not until he knew what their superiors had planned.

“We’re not on Kamino anymore.” Tik interjected. “The Republic wouldn’t let that happen.”

The door of the room slid open, startling a few to attention. Aedana Nyx stepped into the room, looking like she had been visited by a ghost. She searched each of their faces before settling on the Sergeant. She nodded towards her side of the room and he went to join her.

Arno leaned forwards, straining to hear, but their low tones did not carry. After a brief conversation, the Sarge smiled weakly and nodded, squeezing her shoulder.

Arno and Cal looked at each other with a raised brow and unspoken surprise. Out of respect for the man, no one talked about it, but it was no secret he kept at a physical distance from those he didn’t trust. The Sergeant went out of his way to avoid contact with strangers. Tik and Day looked at Aedana with a new degree of respect.

The Sarge turned to them and waited for their undivided attention. He straightened his posture, no longer looking like a broken man.

“Men, the Republic has failed us. Their solution to this problem does not factor in our survival. We have been trained to fight, trained to rush into battle. I am going to ask you to do the opposite. The Jedi may have a solution.” He looked over to Aedana, who nodded. “This is not a command, but there are two options. Remain at our post and accept the decided solution or go AWOL and find a way to stop this before more of our brothers are affected.”

Arno’s hands curled into fists and he looked to his brothers. He saw the same fire in their eyes and knew they were of the same mind. “The way I see it, if either option has a chance of death, I’d pick the option where I’m not disposed like an animal.”

Cal clapped Arno on the back. “We’ll follow you Sarge. Tell us what we need to do.”


	8. The Past is Pain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the clones choose to leave their post, Aedana attempts to connect with Hex.

Anger, hurt, confusion. These were emotions Aedana understood. Ones with which she was well acquainted. And as she stood at the door of a makeshift cell, they were also what she felt roiling inside Trooper Hex. A moment of hesitation held in her place, her hand hovering over the door access. _It isn’t about you_ . _He isn’t himself._ She pushed the fear away and the door slid open, revealing a bound clone, the very picture of defeat. He watched as she moved into the room, eyes not leaving hers in the only show of defiance available to him. 

“Are you here for an apology?” He asked with a scowl affixed to his face. 

“No.” 

The door slid shut behind her, and he finally broke his gaze. He grit his teeth against an unseen force. 

“What do you want? Why are you here?” He growled. 

Instinct told her to stand out of arm's length with her back against the wall, instead she stood at a comfortable distance, casually belying her apprehension. After meeting with the other troopers, she offered to speak with him, an offer Hawke forbade. But the worry of Hex acting out in a cramped ship could be dangerous for all involved. She hoped to get through to him, maybe even discover why he barely maintained control of his own mind. 

“Your brothers are readying to leave the base.” She replied. 

The sentence deflated some of his distress. 

“We’ve received new orders?” 

“The Jedi have plans to receive the squad at the Coruscant temple. You will be examined and treated.” 

He shook his head. “No, no, no, no.” He started pulling at the bindings. “Let me go!” 

His mind was still a tangled mess, but now he struggled for control. He wanted freedom in more ways than one. When the binders wouldn’t let him move forwards, he fell against the wall. After a moment of disheartened silence, he began smashing his head against the duracrete wall. 

“Hex, no!” Aedana reached for him, trying to calm him. He wrenched himself away and began scratching marks into the side of his head. She placed her hands on either side of his head, forcing him to look at her. Calling upon abilities she swore to never use again, she altered his mind. A wretched skill if amplified by the Force. She didn't simply project her emotions onto his mind, they would temporarily become his own. 

Unfortunately, her own mind was a fearful and messy place. She was relieved to have found purpose, but hurt and confusion lingered at the prospect of seeing her old master. Sadness over the current state of the Republic. 

Hex sagged back onto the floor, tears streaming from his eyes. His mind finally calm - a false calm. 

“I’m sorry.” He whispered. 

She dropped her hand to his shoulder. “No, I don’t deserve that. I’m sure you will return to hating me once this has worn off.” 

She hadn’t meant it to be funny, but he laughed regardless. 

“Hex, I shouldn’t have done it.” The memories it triggered caused a physical reaction. She backed away and covered her mouth. 

He cast a tired eye to the wall and gestured to his now bruising head. “Maybe I will feel different, but right now I prefer whatever you did over a bashed in head.” 

Taking a minute to regain dignity, she stood straight and brushed off her clothes. Hex cradled his head in his manacled hands. She held out her hand, using only a gesture to unlock the binders. With a flex of his arms, they clattered to the floor. He rubbed his wrists, keeping his gaze to the floor. 

It was at that moment the door slid open. Hawke looked in on them with surprise, a look which quickly turned to disappointment. 

“What is going on here?” 

“Ehh - she’s trying to help.” Hex muttered dismissively. 

Hawke didn’t speak, but he wasn’t happy. Wordlessly he walked over and picked up the discarded binders. Hex held out his arms in resignation, letting himself be placed back in confinement. 

“Sorry, brother.” 

Hex nodded. “Do what you need to do.” 

Aedana slipped out the door but did not leave. She stood in the hallway playing sentry, while the two spoke with each other. It was not long before Hawke joined her, waiting for the door to close before looking over at her. 

“What were you thinking?” 

“I wanted to help. He needed to be prepared to be around more Jedi, it would only make things worse-” 

“If he cannot control himself, he will be sedated.” He shook his head, weariness apparent. “I need you to respect my decisions – at least in front of the others.” 

“I will – I do. I was only trying to help – and I messed up.” Tears welled in the corners of her eyes. As much as their opinion of each other had evolved in a very short time, she could feel he felt no sympathy for her in this instance. She disobeyed a command, and it caused her to resort to methods he was clearly uncomfortable with. His prickly attitude sobered Aedana from her wallowing. She had just wanted to help.

He pressed his comlink button. “Cal, report to hall A04.” 

“Yessir.” 

She wiped her eyes and clasped her hands together, trying to hold back the restless feeling in her heart. Next to her, Hawke wavered on his feet. Exhaustion billowed from him. 

“Are you sleeping?” 

He didn’t care for her prying questions. 

“Enough to survive.” 

“You are worried about Hex.” She chose her words carefully. “In a different way than the others.” 

He wanted to talk, but hesitation and training gave him pause. He was interrupted as Cal entered the corridor. The younger trooper stood at attention, looking at them both curiously. 

“I believe I am correct in thinking you have the most recent field-medic training?” 

“Yes sir, that’s correct.” 

“Good. Get the medic-droid and work out solutions for transporting Hex. Take a look at his medical reports and try and find anything we have missed.” 

“You think I’ll find something a medic-droid didn’t?” 

Hawke sighed. A pained look crossed his eyes. “Right now, I don’t trust anything beyond our squadron.” He gave her a side glance. “Except Aedana.” 

Cal offered her a quick glance as well and the faintest of smiles. “Yes sir, right away.” 

The two of them left Hex in Cal’s care. Hawke nodded to his soldier, then gestured for her to walk with him. They almost made it back to the control room before Hawke stopped. 

Aedana waited patiently next to him, not sure if she should be preparing for a question or a lecture. 

“We were batch brothers.” He inhaled. “We were in the same group as kids.” 

An answer to her previous question. 

“We looked out for each other. Made sure we both survived our training.” 

She winced. She couldn’t mask her feelings. 

“I wouldn’t have survived without his help.” He worked his lower jaw back and forth, mulling over what he wanted to reveal. A shame in his past he wanted to keep in his past. An image of a hated teacher filled her mind. A cruel person. 

“A bad teacher?” She asked quietly. 

His laugh was bitter. “One of our trainers. A drill sergeant. I never figured why, but the other clones in my group looked up to me. Our trainer hated me for it.” 

Hawke was mired in hate and fear, but unlike his brother he managed to rise above it. If he was anyone else, she might offer a hug or some expression of endearment. It went against her nature to stand still while a friend was so obviously hurting. 

He paced back and forth, but she didn’t intervene. As uncomfortable as he was, he desperately wanted to speak about whatever was bothering him. 

“If one of my brothers acted out, this man would beat me. Anything he didn’t like; I was the target.” 

“Did you ever find out why?” 

He shook his head. “It messed with me though. Got to the point where I had a fit when anyone got near me.” 

Of course. Some of his past reactions were beginning to make sense. “Were you the only one he treated this way?” 

“No. I seemed to be the only one effected by it. When I tried to speak out, the Kaminoans just called it stress testing.” He sought her eyes and his need for acceptance was never clearer. “It’s the first time I wondered if there was something wrong with me – and my group. We were never as obedient, never as – loyal as the others.” 

Her own situation and self-pity felt cheap compared to what these soldiers endured. It broke her heart. Even as a practicing Jedi, Aedana had a hard time separating herself from the strong emotions of others. She knew she was being pulled in fast to the lives of these clones, and she couldn’t live with herself if she left these men to their own fate. 

For his part, Hawke did not wish to speak of this part of his life, but at the same time she sensed he felt a freedom in the telling. Some secrets became less of a burden when there was another to share them. 

“There’s nothing wrong with that. You held onto your humanity despite everything they did.” Her smile was hopeful, even if it didn’t match how she felt inside. He attempted to match it. 

“Hex covered for me. I had what the Kaminoans would call a ‘defective mental state’.” He shrugged. “They aren't exactly big on rehabilitation. I owe him my life.” 

“You want to repay his kindness.” 

“No, it’s loyalty. It’s – family. At least all we can hope to have. But Hex – he paid for it in the long run. Sticking up for me - it turned into bad luck for him. There’s a reason he has the nickname he does.” 

His comlink beeped, bringing the conversation to a halt. Aedana moved into a defensive stance, angling her body away from him in case the call triggered whatever was afflicting these men. His hand hovered over the com button when he noticed her reaction. 

“It’s just Arno.” He said quietly. She nodded and he pressed the button. 

“Sarge, we have a communication coming in from a General Kohi Ato.” 

Aedana’s gut twisted. “My master.” Her voice was a whisper. 

Hawke looked at her briefly. “Is he waiting on comm?” 

“Yessir.” 

Hawke waited to see if she had anything to say. It took her too long to formulate a response. 

“Do you want to stand in on the communication?” 

“No, if I’m being honest.” She sighed. “But I probably should.” 

They both turned to the doors of the control room. It had been a little over a year since she left the Order. Longer still since she last had contact with her master. This conversation would prove to be interesting. 

* * *

Var-Tera sat next to the still unconscious Siniteen, Arac Qi. They had been transported to a shuttle where they remained bound in the cargo area of the vessel. Unfortunately, her attempts to convince their Jedi captor to kill the other mercenary fell on deaf ears. He was unwavering in his decision to bring the two of them to justice. Nothing she said provoked a response from him, he was unshakeable. She doubted Nala Se would come to her defense as she was accused and interrogated. In the end it wouldn’t matter if she had nothing to do with the Separatists. The only thing she possibly had going for her was her supposed connection with Arac was shaky at best. The only independent evidence the Jedi had of her involvement was a curious number of weapons in her apartment, a handful of Kaminoan technology, and the fact Arac went to her apartment to kill her. There might be only an insignificant chance of bluffing her way out of the hole she dug herself in, but she’d take that chance. 

Sitting on the floor of the ship, she watched as the Weequay Jedi boarded the ship one final time, sealing the ships boarding ramp behind him. He keyed in a command to the ship’s communication unit. Var-Tera didn’t bother putting on a sleeping act, she doubted it would fool this man. A few minutes passed before an image of a clone trooper materialized. She had been in many difficult situations in her life, but this one was rocketing up the list to take top place. Shifting as quietly as possible, she maneuvered in order to nudge Arac with her foot. His breathing caught, but he didn’t wake. 

“...Aedana Nyx present?” 

“Yes master, I am here.” 

The name and voice caught Var-Tera's attention. A young woman stepped into view. Despite the poor quality of the hologram, there was enough of a distinction to see she was a Zeltron. The voice was unmistakable; the very same one that whispered to her on the warehouse roof. It spooked her enough to send her fleeing the scene; the words branded into her mind. _Hmm. So, it’s not you. You work for someone. Who?_

The Weequay’s aloofness did not stop his posture from stiffening as soon as she spoke. Who exactly was she to him? A student? An apprentice? Her knowledge base for the Jedi was non-existent. 

After the brief pause, he seemed to compose himself. “It is good to see you well, Padawan.” 

She winced and looked to the clone standing next to her. 

“Thank you.” She appeared to be struggling with her emotions as well. “You have been on my mind lately. Are you safe?” 

He nodded and folded his arms together but didn’t speak. Var-Tera might not know much about the Jedi, but she had personal experience of the heart and mind of an estranged daughter. This Aedana was staring at someone she disliked but was still desperate for his approval. 

When he didn’t answer, she forced a smile. “Master Allie said you are nearby?" 

He nodded. “I am on Asher Moon. I have already apprehended two people of interest behind this plot against the Republic.” 

Immediately her soft expression sank into a bitter scowl. “I’m sure you mean, against the clones.” 

He paused, “Yes, of course.” It was said in a tone that made her think he would have said much more if the two of them didn’t have an audience. 

“Master Allie said you have become – focused – on a matter with the clones?” 

“This can be discussed later.” He paused for a beat, before turning towards the clone. “Sergeant, I am at the docking yards in Khata City. I will be approaching the outpost momentarily. Have your men ready to disembark.” 

“Yes, General Ato.” 

The Weequay bowed his head and disconnected the communication. He turned towards the cockpit, looking deep in thought – clearly affected by the conversation. 

“There’s something comforting about seeing a Jedi fuck up their relationship with their children. You holy warriors are no better than any of us bottom feeders.” She called out from the shadows. 

Her words snapped him out of his introspections. _Got him._ Anger flared in his eyes for the briefest of moments. She had him, she knew how to provoke him, how to break his resolve. 

“The Jedi don’t have children.” Was the only retort he could manage. 

“Is that so? Could have fooled me, because _that_ I recognize. _That_ was the face of a daughter disappointed in her father.” Var-Tera was nothing if not a survivor and she wasn’t above fighting dirty.

He looked ready to take the bait she was laying out, but he shook his head. “The day I take criticisms from a Separatist operative has not yet arrived.” 

“Good thing I’m not a Seppy then.” She said to his back as he left the cargo area. “You’d be lucky if that’s all I was.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy, I've had another crazy month. So much stuff to do, so little time - but I really wanted to make sure I got this chapter out before May the Fourth. My apologies if editing and proof reading is poor, but I really worked to get something out before this Monday. This was a bit of a sad chapter to write, especially while watching the Siege of Mandalore arc - these poor babies.


	9. The Unknown

“Can the Jedi protect us from a court martial?” 

It was an idea Hawke had never considered. And why would he? Clones were meant to be loyal to a fault. Well, maybe not these clones. They gathered around Hawke and Aedana, buzzing with nervous energy. The two of them listened as his men grappled with the sudden change of their reality. General Kohi Ato’s communication had not eased their minds, but it did make real the predicament they found themselves. This outpost often felt like a bubble - sealed off from the galaxy at large. The general's message burst this bubble, leaving them to grapple with future consequences of their actions. Hawke observed in silence; he was surviving on only a handful of hours of sleep and losing energy fast. It was difficult to summon the will for discourse when he was already fighting against bone deep exhaustion. However, his men depended on him. He couldn’t rest, not yet. 

“Court-martial? We'll get executed on sight.” Troopers Tik and Day were restless; checking and rechecking the security screen as if they expected the enemy to suddenly storm the exterior of the outpost. Tik turned back to Aedana, desperate for answers. Her eyes darted back and forth between each of the men. Worry pulled at her expression and he wondered if she feared they might turn on her. Each of them like Hex with a sudden irrational hatred of the Jedi. 

“The Jedi serve the Republic; they are expected to abide by the rules of the Republic.” She folded her hands together, holding them up as if she was pleading. “I have to believe that unless the Chancellor himself issues orders to turn you over, you will be safe while this is investigated.” 

“If we’re caught, we’re all guilty of desertion.” Tik continued, not acknowledging her reply. Hawke stepped forwards, placing a hand on the younger clone’s shoulder. He dredged up whatever command he possessed and turned to the others with a pointed look. “The Jedi are our generals. If they tell us to go to their temple, then we are following orders.” He looked at the others. “That is what we will say if we’re asked, and we will have to rely on the Jedi to back us from there.” 

Tik nodded slowly. He didn’t voice further concern, but it was clear he was troubled. They all were. 

“And despite what is happening to us, at this moment we are still part of the Grand Army of the Republic. Tik and Day, begin lock down procedures. Arno, you and I will initiate automation protocols.” 

His men saluted and their posture straightened. Their tasks were something that made sense. Something they trained for. Despite their resentments, most of these boys still wanted to be useful. They needed a sense of duty to help balance out the uncertainty of their immediate futures. Hawke knew this, because it scratched the same itch in his mind. 

“Automation protocols?” Aedana asked after Tik and Day left. 

He nodded and walked over to the center of the room, taking his place at the main console. Having the most senior rank, it was his duty to begin the lockdown. 

“Recent security measures in the event of worst-case scenario.” Word was that several listening outposts had been hit by the Separatists, which in turn led to the Republic instituting stricter security measures. Too little too late, he thought. Nice of them to do that only after so many of his brothers died. They might be elite soldiers, but they weren’t invincible. He began entering authentication for several commands. 

“Regardless of what’s been done to us, I haven’t been stationed here for weeks only to have some damn opportunistic villain take over the outpost.” 

From across the room a hatch opened, and security droids floated out along their preprogrammed paths. Their mechanical buzzing struck him as ominous as they drifted slowly out of sight. 

“Hopefully these measures will be enough until other soldiers are reassigned.” 

Aedana stood at the opposite end of the console and watched him, but her attention was elsewhere. Revealing past difficulties to her had hurt, and there was no reason or logic to explain why. He was a soldier. He had been involved in countless skirmishes and battles. It was well known the Kaminoans attempted to make them resistant to mental trauma, which was a joke. Why then was the act of telling so troubling and relieving at the same time? He needed her to understand why saving Hex was important, but it came with an irrational fear that telling her made him … _less_. 

Hawke looked over at her then past her, towards Arno. The trooper seemed focused on the task at hand, while also spying on them from time to time. 

Aedana’s expression pinched and he became aware of feelings of betrayal pushing in at the edges of his mind. Not his, no these were her emotions. He leaned a little closer and lowered his voice. 

“You feel betrayed?” 

Her eyes widened and the emotions evaporated out of his awareness. “I’m sorry-” She looked away as her skin darkened to a deeper maroon. 

“No, it’s okay – I'm getting used to it.” In truth this part he didn’t mind. Growing up, his trainers and minders didn’t exactly prioritize understanding social cues. If all Jedi and civilians could project their moods, it would make navigating the world outside the army a lot easier. 

No, what he couldn’t forgive was her ability to _replace_ his mood. But he wasn’t sure how to articulate it without offense. 

“Thinking about the General? Master?” 

She nodded and opened her mouth but couldn’t find the words to say. 

“I didn’t tell you my past expecting anything in return, but is there anything I need to know about you and your Master? Can we trust him?” 

“He will follow the law.” She managed, after a moment's hesitation. “He works tirelessly to do what he feels is right.” 

His hackles raised and he grew frustrated. He wasn’t sure if it was a Jedi thing or an Aedana thing, but she often chose her responses carefully with certain audiences. It didn’t escape his notice she hardly ever did so with him. The fact that she censored herself now bothered him. 

“Don’t tell me what you would tell the boys. Tell me how _you_ feel.” 

She frowned and leaned against the edge of the console, as if she needed its support. 

“I - had a difficult time during my training. Not like you.” She said quickly. “I don’t mean to compare. But after a childhood of training I found I wasn’t set to become a Jedi. They planned on assigning me to the Republic Medical Corp, the Agri-corp – or something equally important.” Her tone grew bitter. 

“Why?” 

“What do you know about my people?” 

He assumed she meant her species. He knew more than when they first met, for sure. It didn’t take long after her introduction for curiosity to take over. When he pulled up the Zeltron entry in the GAR database, he told himself it was strategic. He had to know what he was up against. 

“Zeltron are empaths, telepathic to a certain degree.” 

She nodded. “I wasn’t ashamed of this, and I used those abilities because they were a part of who I am. But my teachers felt I relied too heavily on them.” 

“But not your Master.” 

“No, he took me on as his Padawan. Helped me find balance.” She filled her lungs with a stabilizing breath. "Until I suppose - I made a mistake he couldn’t forgive. I was sent back to the temple.” 

What did she do, he wondered, and how would any such indiscretion affect his men? 

“Will he consider us clones an unforgiveable mistake?” 

Her history hadn’t exactly filled him with hope. He had no real frame of reference for how guardians or caretakers were supposed to interact with their wards, but he knew enough to understand his childhood was far from the norm. One only had to venture closer to populated systems to be bombarded with holo-ads telling everyone how _normal_ families were supposed to look and act. He assumed the Jedi were more put together than the clone army. But if this man could turn away someone he trained and raised since they were a child, what sort of compassion could be expected for a group of random clones? 

“I don’t think so.” 

Arno looked over at them once more with a hurt expression. Aedana turned towards him and Hawke cleared his throat. She had good intentions, but when it came to his men there were certain things he preferred to deal with on his own. 

Catching on to his disapproval, she paused and looked down at her outfit, speaking aloud for Arno’s benefit. 

“It has occurred to me; I might not want to meet old friends in a hospital gown.” 

Recent events had him prioritize certain things while ignoring what he deemed unimportant. Her comment caused a quickly forgotten memory of an annoyed Twi’lek to immediately resurface. 

“Your Twi’lek friend shoved a bag of sundries into the speeder when we left. Clothes and such. I believe one of the boys stowed it in the med-room's storage unit.” 

“Thank you.” Her voice was strained, and once again her attention immediately drifted elsewhere. He watched as she left the control room; he wondered for the first time if she could hold it together until they were clear. He needed her focused and on task, as much as he needed it for the men under his command. 

He waited to see if Arno would use her absence to speak freely, but his brow furrowed, and he remained determined not to break sight with his console. 

“Something on your mind?” Hawke asked after letting a few more minutes pass. 

Arno seemed to be wrestling with some emotional burden. They all were, but this was especially unusual for the perpetually cheerful young man. 

“They messed with my mind and I didn’t remember until Cal showed me the logs. What if I did -” 

Hawke sighed. “There’s no evidence anyone other than Hex left the base.” 

“But how do we know?” 

He stopped what he was doing and gave Arno his full attention. “Because no one in the city is talking about it. They can’t make everyone forget.” 

“Hex and Tik are right, aren’t they? The Jedi don’t know what’s happening. They don’t care.” 

Out of all of them, Arno and Cal still held on to the assumption that the Jedi were the infallible heroes of the Republic. Despite his own opinion on the matter, there was something sad about witnessing a person lose faith. 

“Do you trust Aedana?” 

Arno paused and looked to the exit where she left. It only took a few seconds for him to smile again. 

“I know she cares about us. It’s strange, I want to be her friend – and I don’t even care if it’s because she’s a Zeltron. I like her. I think she’ll do good by us.” 

Hawke felt a twist of agreement and comradery with Arno, paired with a sliver of jealousy. If only his emotional state could bounce back so easily. He would deal with it later. 

“And if she is trustworthy, if she does care, the Jedi did something right. Her master – the Jedi she trusts – I have to believe they think the way she does, even by just a small amount.” 

The trooper nodded slowly. “Of course. You’re right, sarge. Like usual.” 

Hawke tried hiding his own smile and gestured to his terminal. “You’re damn right. Now get back to work."

* * *

Aedana moved the coarse canvas bag onto a nearby counter, letting the med-droid lock up the storage unit. The bag was stamped with Southside Hostel’s name, as if anyone in Khata would dream of stealing such a drab item. The contents were a frantic compilation of mostly useful items. There was an outfit that didn’t belong to her but looked like it would fit. A red orange jumpsuit was paired with a lengthy poncho made of gaudy teal coloured material and decorated with embroidery that could only look at home in Khata. Its garish look would have her stand out amongst other Jedi, but it was better than showing up in ill-fitting hospital garb. She quickly changed her outfit, taking some extra time to braid her hair – a move born out of practicality rather than aesthetic. She didn’t need the added distraction of hair being whipped into her face. The rest of the bag contained a few sweets, an ancient Medi-sensor, a palm sized metallic sphere, goggles, and a laser scalpel. She shook her head at the rest of the contents before eyeing the transparent cabinet doors that lined this side of the room. Giving a cursory look at the droid, she decided she didn’t care much if it observed her. Opening the cabinets, she made a quick scan before filling the sack with as much antiseptics, bacta patches and sprays, pain relivers, bandages, and stim-shots as she could. She hoped to come back after this was done, it would be nice to return to Dani with a bit of a peace offering. Pulling out the bag’s straps, she slung it across her torso so the bag fit snug under her arm. As she adjusted her outfit, the room grew a little less lonely. She turned around and expected to see someone, but she stood in a room empty of company. 

_Aedana._

She gasped and looked out into the corridor. Also empty. _Master?_

He acknowledged her reply but she felt nothing else. Moving at a steady clip down the hall, she veered away from the control room and raced out toward the main deck of the listening post. He must be very close; something drove her to be the first one to meet him. As she exited out onto the deck, the chill in the air was severe enough for her to stop and catch her breath. Thankfully the garish poncho was heavy enough to prevent her from freezing on the spot. Ahead of her and to her right a light-freighter ship settled onto the landing platform. Judging by its size, it did not look very spacious. It wouldn’t be a comfortable trip. 

The entry ramp lowered and she forced herself to walk calmly towards the ship. Her mind and heart were racing, but she maintained outward composure at the very least. She was well aware her outward reaction would make or break the clones trust in him. She stopped at the edge of the platform and let him walk the rest of the way. Master Kohi Ato. He was thinner than she remembered; his leathery brown skin pulled gaunt across his bones. And he was physically hurt, but trying to hide it. The doors leading into the base slid open and Hawke and Arno exited. They held back at a respectable distance. 

“Master.” She bowed her head. “You are hurt.” 

His golden eyes widened. Was he surprised she afforded him respect, or did he not expect her to so easily see what he tried to hide? 

“The base has a med-room.” She offered. 

“I’m afraid there isn’t time.” His surprise turned into stern detachment and he looked past her. “I must speak with the Sergeant.” 

The pain in her heart twisted deeper, no greetings, no heartfelt reunion - but she pushed it away and held up her hand. “First explain why you were near Asher moon. Master Allie said you were investigating the clones. Why?” 

“Aedana.” 

“These soldiers have someone or something controlling their minds. They asked me if a Jedi would do this to them.” 

A flash of pain creased his face. “And when they considered this ridiculous theory, you decided I might be behind it?” 

She bristled but put aside her own hurt. “Speak truthfully. I am owed that much. What do you know?” 

The cold air whipped around them and through their unsuitable outfits. It stung her eyes, producing tears. She blinked them away and refused to drop her gaze. 

After a protracted hesitation he nodded. “I will tell you, but right now I ask for your trust. It is important we leave as quickly as possible.” 

She trusted this, despite wanting to demand what he knew. He acknowledged her agreement and walked towards the others. 

“General.” Both Arno and Hawke saluted smartly and remained at attention. Aedana felt an uncomfortable disconnect by their reaction towards Kohi. It didn’t feel right. Arno’s helmet tilted slightly in her direction as she joined them. She smiled and gestured that everything was good – an interaction not lost on her master. 

“At ease men, at ease.” They relaxed by a fraction. “I understand you have a trooper in custody?” 

“Yes - sir.” Hawke didn’t like the connotation. For all of Hex’s actions, he didn’t consider him a prisoner. She resisted the urge to place a comforting hand on his arm. “He is restrained – and we have considered sedation for the trip. He – seems to be triggered by the Jedi. Sir.” 

Kohi turned to her as her hand reached for her throat, covering the bruise left by Hex’s attack. 

“Hmm. Complicated.” 

Aedana shivered and found herself wishing the med-droid hadn’t destroyed her coat. The freezing air was starting to hurt. 

“There are two individuals onboard the ship with various connections to this mystery. They have been apprehended but are in need of medical attention. Can you tend to them?” He looked down at the bag secured under her arm. Did he know what she had taken? It wouldn’t surprise her if he did. She glanced at the two soldiers. Instinct told her to protect the men, but Hawke nodded. It was fine for her to leave. From the sergeant she felt a pointed curiosity. He wanted her to use this as an opportunity to investigate. 

“Yes, master.” Out of habit, she bowed before turning away. It felt wrong to leave the men. It felt wrong to not demand more from her old master. But she would do what was required of her. 

With one last look at the retreating men, Aedana walked up the ramp and into the ship. 

As her eyes adjusted to the low light, she was greeted by a modest cargo area. Its most striking feature, an unconscious Siniteen, and a human watching her with a curious mind. A familiar mind. They were both bound, not that the Siniteen needed such restraints. Beyond being unconscious, he appeared to be newly separated from his hands. It wasn’t difficult to imagine how he received such damage. 

“I suppose I have you to thank for my injury?” Aedana asked as she crouched next to the unconscious man. 

The woman smirked. “Doesn’t seem like you’re suffering.” 

Aedana’s smile was kind. “I suppose I would be, if you wanted to cause serious harm.” 

The human frowned and looked away. Her bluster hid a woman terrified of her situation. 

Reaching into her bag, she pulled out Dani’s newly gifted Medi-sensor. She hadn’t expected to use it so soon. It was even older than hers – the one she dug out of the hospital’s cast offs - but it would do the trick. Scanning the Siniteen, there appeared to be a subcutaneous lump in his neck – she'd investigate that later. He had more pressing concerns. At some point he had been treated with an emergency coagulant. She inspected his stumps, wondering if the cauterization from the lightsaber didn’t take. There was some blood loss, but not enough to require an immediate transfusion. The supplies she swiped from the base were meant for use on a human clone. Her own injury had drained the med-droid's ability to create a non-human blood substitute. 

Signs of an infection were present. All she could do now was inject him with an antibiotic and treat the stumps with a bacta spray. It would have to do until they reached a facility equipped to handle such a case. Setting aside the hypospray and syringe, she cut his sleeve away in order to properly bandage the area. 

“So, you’re his girl.” The human asked. 

Aedana continued her work, unsure of what she meant. 

“His ward, daughter – whatever.” 

At this she paused, considering her master’s fatherly attributes. He managed to nail down the disappointment. She shook her head. 

“You don’t know much about the Jedi, do you.” 

The woman shrugged. Even now, more than a year after leaving the Order, it was still shocking to discover those with little to no knowledge of the Jedi. The ones that knew, just didn’t care. And this was where it was technically still considered to be Republic Space. More and more it felt like the Jedi were protectors and guardians for the interests of the Core worlds, rather than the entire Galactic Republic. 

“Do you trust him?” 

The question was unexpected, and she found herself unsure of how to answer. The bandaging slowed as she considered the answer. 

“More than you, I imagine.” Aedana finished what she could for the Siniteen and moved next to the human. 

“My name is Aedana.” 

“I know.” 

She waited a moment for an introduction but received none. 

Sighing, she scanned the woman with the ancient Medi-sensor. In good health for the most part, but also contained a lump embedded into her skin. It didn’t read as cancer, but neither did it seem to offer any benefits to the body. A mark? A clue, perhaps? Whatever it was, it didn’t belong in them. 

“You have foreign matter lodged in your neck.” 

“What? No I don’t.” The human pulled away from her. Aedana dug the laser scalpel and a pair of tweezers out of her pack. She activated the scalpel. 

“Wait, wait. Fine – my name’s Var-Tera. Don’t -” 

“This will only take a moment Var-Tera. Don’t move.” She hadn't set out for revenge, but the woman’s fear felt like suitable payback for her own injury. The woman jolted but didn’t make a sound, as Aedana made a small and shallow incision. Taking the tweezers, she gently retrieved a dull green strip from the open wound and held it in front of the human’s face. “What is this?” 

“Wh – what the hell? That was in me?” Her fear and disbelief were true. Whoever this woman was, she had no knowledge of it. 

She sprayed the area of incision with bacta and shuffled back to the Siniteen. His unconscious form made it much easier to repeat the same process. Wrapping the strips carefully in a piece of unused bandage, she placed the makeshift packet into one of her jumpsuit’s many pockets. 

The human shook her head and Aedana felt her last shred of loyalty snap. Loyalty to who, was the question. Var-Tera began to laugh; it was manic and bitter. 

“You were right – on the roof, you were right. I am targeting the clones – thing is I don’t know why. I didn’t even really know the clones were the target until I stumbled across you. And your Jedi is right. Both me and this guy are involved.” She nodded towards the Siniteen. “But he thinks we’re Separatists.” 

Aedana sat back on her heels, wishing her Master had taken the time to say what he knew. It would make this investigation so much easier. “I know you feel this is just a job, I felt it the moment I met you. But just because you earn a wage for your deeds doesn’t absolve you.” 

“No, you don’t get it. It changes everything.” She was fearful and bitter all at once. “I was hired by Kamino. Can you say I’m lying?” 

She wasn’t. And the accusation that the cloners were behind this mystery was a terrifying implication. 

“That is _their_ technology.” She looked pointedly at what was taken from her neck. “They like to call it a last resort. Those pieces of shit put it in me. They –they didn’t expect me to survi-” She suddenly remembered her surroundings and clammed up. Internally, Aedana felt her reign in her panic. 

“They didn’t expect you to survive? Why? What were you doing here?” 

The Var-Tera woman shook her head. “We can’t go to Coruscant. Convince your Jedi of this and I’ll talk.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter took a hot minute to finish. Got a lot going on right now, but don't we all. I also ended up rewriting it several times, so I think I'll just post it and move on. Hope you enjoyed the read!


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